


It's The Little Things

by Foreverwholockedme



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia, John Needs A Hug, M/M, Parentlock, Praise Kink, S4 fix-it, Sharing a Bed, Sherlock is a Good Boyfriend, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a bit of slow burn, soft john
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2018-09-27 23:26:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 28,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10056806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foreverwholockedme/pseuds/Foreverwholockedme
Summary: Based off of mypostJust a few bits about Sherlock and John being soft and in love.





	1. Chapter 1

They stood in the center of the flat to take in the damage. Sherlock crossed his arms and kicked his foot at the remains of a book. John, holding Rosie, shifted her to his right and turned to Sherlock. The man was unusually quiet, and only uttered a few words when they entered the flat. The walls were black, the décor was scorched and ruined. Everything that they loved in that flat, everything that made 221B was gone. John jumped when Sherlock moved suddenly. He made his way over to the stand that used to hold his music sheets and set it upright. Sherlock turned to his favorite armchair and his brows furrowed. John watched carefully as his gaze went from his chair, to John’s favorite chair. What he didn’t expect to see was a tear roll down Sherlock’s cheek as he whispered, “It’s all gone now, John.”

John wanted to rush over and embrace him, as Sherlock did when he cried. Sherlock only said a few words, but each word was uttered with such pain that it broke John’s heart to see him so distraught.

“How long will it take to renovate?”

Sherlock wiped a tear away and exhaled. “Knowing Mycroft, he’ll have the top contractors in England come to fix the place up. Even then…everything is…everything is…it’s just gone, John. My chemistry set, my music, my chair. How can they replace that?”

John could only offer a smile at present even though he knew that it didn’t do much to lift his friend’s spirits.

“Don’t think of it as replacement, Sherlock. Think of it more as restoration.”

Sherlock’s eyes met John’s. “Restore, replace, what does it matter anymore? I don’t even have anywhere else to sleep until this flat is fixed.”

John’s mouth hung open. Of course, how could he forget? Where is Sherlock going to be staying during this? He can’t possibly sleep in his bedroom when the flat was in this condition. Did no one think to ask him, or did everybody assume that he knew what to do?

“You could stay with me,” John said without hesitation, “Er…you can stay with us. Rosie and I, until your flat is fixed.”

Sherlock’s lip quivered at John’s suggestion, and for a moment, John thought that he was going to cry again.

“John I…I couldn’t possibly…”

“Nonsense, Sherlock! I invited you after all.”

Sherlock tilted his head as he thought about the proposal. “Well, I suppose I could take the sofa.”

John’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Are you daft? The Great Sherlock Holmes, kip on the sofa? No, you can bunk with me…if you’d like that is.”

Sherlock froze much like the time when he was asked to be best man.

“John, are you asking me to…share a bed with you?”

Rosie let out a noise and John rubbed her back. “Yes…I…uh…it’s the only bed I got. Rosie’s got the other bedroom and the sofa is far from comfortable to sleep…”

Sherlock cut him off mid-sentence by whisking off towards his bedroom. “Just let me grab a few things and we’ll be off.”

John was left in the middle of the living room dumbfounded. He was going to be sharing a bed with Sherlock for who knows how long. The thought alone excited him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's first night with John and Rosie

Sherlock didn’t take very long to gather whatever it was he ran off to get. When they got to John’s home, he immediately set Rosie on the floor and watched as she attempted to crawl away from the men.

“Welcome to my humble abode, which will be yours for the time being.”

Sherlock looked down at Rosie. He smiled and nodded. “For however long that’ll be.”

“Cheer up, it won’t be as bad as you’re imagining it to be. I’m not half as bad as a host.”

Sherlock stood up and shrugged, “You’re not the problem, John.”

Hearing that, John couldn’t help but smirk at the compliment. It’s been awhile since he’s had any guests over, but Sherlock was more than that and he wanted to make him as happy as possible while he was staying with him. The man has had enough happen to him these past weeks, and it still filled him with shame and guilt that he was one of the reasons why Sherlock was in pain. He shook his head and clapped his hands together.

“Right, are you hungry? I don’t think I have much food here but we can order takeaway and watch Bond movies. Have a sleepover of sorts.”

That caught Sherlock’s attention. He cocked his head and furrowed his brows. “A sleepover?”

John’s brow rose and he crossed his arms. “Don’t tell me you’ve deleted sleepovers.”

Sherlock’s smile was soft and small. “No, it’s just…”

John took a step closer to Sherlock and placed a hand on his arm. “What is it, Sherlock?”

Sherlock almost looked ashamed to say whatever it was he was thinking. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and said, “I’ve never had one.”

John’s breath hitched and Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance. It was his turn to cross his arms.

“Don’t act like this is shocking. You know you’re the only person I’ve ever…you’re my only friend. I’m not the person that people call when they want to have ‘sleepovers’ and you know that.”

John realized that Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eyes. That was thing about him, his eyes always betrayed the feeling that he tried to show. He knew that talking about this upset Sherlock, and that was not the point of the conversation at all. John only rubbed Sherlock’s arms and offered the gentlest smile he could muster, which wasn’t very hard when he was with him.

“Come, let me take your coat. Get comfortable Sherlock, really. It would make me happy to see you enjoying yourself. And I think Rosie is looking forward to living with you.” They both looked down at the infant who found her current enjoyment in eating her fist. John nearly sighed at the sound of Sherlock’s breath of laughter. He let John slide his coat off him slowly and whispered, “How can I deny you, John? Anything for you.”

John was glad for the large coat, it provided him sufficient cover to hide the growing blush on his cheeks. God he missed this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John have a movie night!

Shortly after John helped Sherlock settle in, he phoned the nearest takeaway place and ordered for them both. Sherlock was sat on the couch with Rosie in his arms while he listened to the phone call. He couldn’t help but smile at the fact that John never forgot Sherlock’s order. Orange chicken with white rice. John hung up the phone and walked back into the living room with that smile that’s been plastered on his face since Sherlock agreed to stay.

“The food will be here shortly. While we wait, let’s pick out a film to watch.”

Sherlock was rubbing Rosie’s back as he looked up at John with a puzzled expression. “I thought we were having a Bond night?”

John chuckled. “I know, but I thought that we could marathon films you’ve never seen.”

“Oh. I had wanted to watch Bond because I know how much you like the movies and…”

“Sherlock.”

“Yes?”

He took a seat next to the two and said, “Your company is enough for me. If you want to watch Bond again, we’ll watch Bond. If you want to just sit here and eat, I’ll do that too. I’m just throwing out suggestions because I feel like you’re already bored with me.”

Sherlock cocked his head in utter confusion at John’s words. “And why would you think that I can ever grow bored with you, John? You said it yourself, your company is enough for me.”

John couldn’t do anything in response except laugh and grin as wide as his mouth would allow him. They both sat staring at each other with the most genuine of smiles until Rosie wailed and started to wiggle around on Sherlock’s lap in discomfort. Sherlock set her down and watched her crawl over to a set of blocks. “I guess she felt smothered.”

John laughed, “I guess she did. Now come on, let’s pick something for us to watch. Have you ever seen The Hobbit?”

“The Hobbit?” He sound disinterested already, John frowned and said, “Oh come on! Give it a chance, I have a feeling that you’ll love it.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s got dragons and…action and elves, right up your alley.”

Whatever Sherlock wanted to say in response died in his throat. He only shook his head and chuckled. “You know me best, I trust you.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

John popped the disc into the player and then took his seat on the couch with Sherlock. They were practically sitting on the same cushion. John stretched and yawned, and placed his arm behind Sherlock, much to the brunet’s amusement. Sherlock took off his shoes and turned to have his back resting on the arm and his feet tucked under John’s legs. They watched the movie with the smallest of smiles on their faces at the missed intimacy. How long had John been waiting to feel Sherlock’s ice cold feet under his warm thighs, and hear the soft noises that the detective would make whenever a scene in a movie caught his eye or amused him. John missed him so much his chest ached.

He was disappointed when the doorbell rang. He nearly wished that he didn’t order food and scrounged something up in the kitchen, he didn’t want to get up and leave Sherlock’s presence. He placed Rosie on the sofa in place of his absence and walked to the door. While he was discussing the prices with the delivery man, he heard Sherlock’s gentle voice talking to Rosie.

“Don’t you think Bilbo looks like your father?” Rosie mumbled something unintelligible which made Sherlock laugh. John resumed paying for the food, and it wasn’t until after he closed the door that he heard Sherlock say, “I think he’s quite handsome.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have a chat before bed.

They ate in pleasant silence. The only noise in the flat was the movie, and occasionally Rosie’s whines for some of Sherlock’s food. She found her place back in his lap and decided to join them in their movie-watching. The men laughed at her lip covered in drool from the sight of their food, eventually, Sherlock gave in and let her have some of the rice which he softened for her. Every other bite, John would put his fork down and watch Sherlock. He looked on fondly as the man would sigh and give Rosie more rice, when a particularly exciting scene happened in the movie and Sherlock stopped moving to watch it, he was happy to see Sherlock happy and content. He was excited at the fact that Sherlock was happy and content with him. The lights were off and John couldn’t help but bask in Sherlock’s silhouette from the TV light. How could a man be so beautiful and find someone like him worthy of their time?

“The dragon is starting to grow on me, John…John?” Sherlock turned to face him and John’s cheeks reddened at being caught staring.

“Oh um…yeah, Smaug. He actually reminds me of you.”

Sherlock smirked at John’s reaction and replied, “Oh yes, because I too have a penchant for breathing fire, and, as others so helpfully point out, my voice is quite deep.”

“Well, yeah, that stuff too but I think, for me at least, it’s because you protect things so vehemently. You go through all these lengths to protect things that are important to you, whether it’s a person or thing.”

“If we’re drawing parallels then, just like Smaug, I’m protecting just one thing with my life.”

John’s eyes met Sherlock’s and they both stared at each other smiling, Rosie the only one firmly attentive with the movie. John turned to the television and shoved another forkful of food in his mouth. “Or, you know maybe it’s because you’re just a hotheaded hoarder.”

Sherlock snorted and took another helping of his food. “Maybe, John.”

It was then that John realized that he missed Sherlock so much. The house felt different without him, even when Mary was still alive. There just wasn’t that banter that he was so accustomed to with Sherlock. The thought left him smiling into his food for the rest of the film. John took care of the food as Sherlock put Rosie to bed. She had fallen asleep halfway into the marathon, but the two were so comfortable laying on each other that they didn’t move until after the third movie. John stood in the doorway of his daughter’s room and watched as Sherlock gently set her down in her crib and rubbed her back when she stirred. Thankfully, she stayed asleep and John could let the breath out that he was holding.

“Ready for bed, Mr. Holmes?”

“Just let me change and I’ll join you.”

John perked up at the very real and very exciting prospect of sleeping with Sherlock Holmes. He nodded and walked into the room to prepare the bed. It had been so long since he’s slept with another person in the bed, and the fact that it was Sherlock, his best friend, best man, the…the man he loved, it made the man simply giddy. Was Sherlock just as excited as he was? He hoped so. As soon as John was dressed and ready for bed, Sherlock came in wearing his classic grey t-shirt and striped pants.

“So, this is where I’ll be until further notice?” Sherlock was joking as he walked to his side of the bed and lifted the covers.

“There’s always the sofa, if you want to be picky.” John was just as playful with his response.

They settled in under the covers, and John closed his eyes letting the warmth from his bedmate lull him to sleep. It would have been the fastest he’s ever fallen asleep until he heard Sherlock’s small voice whisper, “John?”

“Yes?” Their voices were made gentle and soft by fatigue.

He could see Sherlock’s form sit and he too propped himself up on his elbows to listen to what the man had to say.

After a long bout of silence, he heard Sherlock say, “You called me great today.”

“I did.” John then thought back to the context in which he said it and then immediately he felt like an ass, maybe they weren’t back to that level of joking yet, he overstepped his boundaries, he fucked up, he fucked up bad… “I’m not great, John.”

“Sherlock I’m sorry…”

“Let me finish.” Sherlock’s voice sounded so painfully raw and John’s instinct was to sit up fully and place a hand on his back. He would listen to whatever it was that Sherlock had to say, they would stay up all night if that made him feel better.

“Yeah, of course, whatever you want.”

“…You called me great today, and I’m not, John. I’ve never been great. No one’s ever referred to me as such, therefore I must not be. But I’ve never truly felt ‘great’ until I met you.”

John’s breath hitched in his throat at that.

“From the day we met you never once failed to call me every variation of the word ‘brilliant’ or ‘extraordinary’. You’ve always made me feel like I belonged, like it was okay to be me, that I am doing good…even when I have trouble believing it some days.”

John bit his cheek to prevent any noise from escaping his body. Sherlock wasn’t finished.

“When I’m with you John, I think I really am ‘The Great Sherlock Holmes’, and it makes me happy. But then I realized…I wouldn’t be great if you weren’t amazing.”

John cupped a hand over his mouth to let Sherlock finish. Even in the darkness of the night he could see Sherlock’s smile, so warm, so bright, so wonderful. God, he was so pretty.

“So, let me say this now. John Watson, I think you’re the most amazing, and bravest man that one could ever hope to meet and how lucky I am to have met you.”

John didn’t respond. How could he? What did he, a worn-down war vet, ever do to make a man like Sherlock Holmes, find him worth his time? As if Sherlock knew what he was thinking, he simply wrapped his arms around John’s small body and pressed a kiss to his forehead when he heard John’s tiny whimper into his shirt.

“You don’t have to say anything right now, I just wanted to tell you that before I scared myself into never telling you, like so many other things I’ve been meaning to say but never have…”

They fell asleep like that, embraced and inhaling the scent of the other. The last thing that John remembered thinking was that he didn’t want Sherlock to leave.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

Sherlock was the first to wake the next morning. He yawned and sat up, taking a moment to survey his surroundings. Then a smile came to his lips as he remembered. He was with his John, he felt a hand rest on his and turned to find John still fast asleep, snoring lightly and grasping Sherlock’s hand as if his life depended on it. Sherlock had half a mind to lay back down and just watch him sleep but Rosie chose to ruin the peaceful moment by crying. Sherlock watched carefully as John stirred but didn’t wake up. He must have been exhausted to not even be bothered by the baby’s cries. Sherlock left the bed in the slightest of movements and tiptoed to Rosie’s room. He entered the bright room and honed in on the infant who was sitting up and crying as loud as she could.

Sherlock frowned and walked over to the crib. “What’s the matter, Rosie?” He picked her up and felt her diaper. It didn’t feel full. There was also no foul stench emanating from her, for which he was grateful. He rubbed her back and bounced gently hoping that it would do the trick. She quieted down a little, but she was still upset.

“You’re just hungry, aren’t you?” Her sniffle only confirmed it. He took her to the kitchen to look for the formula. When he found it, he set her down in her highchair to fix her bottle. Rosie didn’t find her new placement agreeable and screamed even louder than before. Sherlock sighed and put the bottle down to get her back in his arms. He kissed her head and tried to shush her before she woke John up. He thought he succeeded, but he heard John’s feet and him saying, “I’m here Rosie…I’m…Rosie?”

Sherlock chuckled and moved back over to her bottle. “We’re in here.”

John walked into the kitchen still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He stopped in the doorway and stared at Sherlock holding Rosie with one hand and holding the bottle with the other.

“Don’t just stand there, help me test her bottle.”

John blinked, but followed Sherlock’s command. Sherlock shook the milk onto John’s wrist, and then slipped the bottle into Rosie’s mouth when John gave the okay. They moved to sit on the sofa and no one spoke. Sherlock was whispering something to Rosie as she drank from the bottle, her eyes fixated on his own, and John fixated on him.

“How long have you been up with her?” Sherlock turned to John.

“We haven’t been up very long. I wanted to stop her crying before you woke up. I failed at that, it seems.”

John smiled down at his daughter and rested a hand on her leg.

“I thought you left, you know.”

Sherlock’s brows furrowed at John. “Left?”

“When I woke up and you weren’t in the bed I thought that…maybe I just dreamed everything…or you left.”

John felt a jolt of electricity course through him as he felt Sherlock’s soft hand clasp his own. The soft rumbling of his laugh excited him and caused him to laugh too.

“Where would I go, John? Have you forgotten why I’m here in the first place?” There was humor in Sherlock’s tone. It made John feel stupid for thinking such things.

“Heh, I don’t know. I was scared, I suppose.”

“John.”

John forced himself to look into those iridescent eyes and listen to what he had to say. He was caught off-guard by a kiss to his forehead. His mouth hung open trying to form words, but nothing came out. Sherlock then moved to stroke his cheek with his free hand and said, “Don’t worry, John. There’s no Holmes without Watson, wherever you are, I am.”

John closed his eyes and exhaled. “I’m a git aren’t I?”

Sherlock pondered the question before answering. He shrugged and said, “Yeah but you’re my git so it’s all fine. I don’t mind.”

Watching Sherlock’s lips curve into a smile, the brightest and widest he’s ever seen, he couldn’t help but fall even harder for the detective. He leant forward and placed a delicate kiss to his lips and nearly had trouble breaking the contact. Sherlock was beaming now and he held Rosie a little closer to himself.

“Yeah, I don’t mind either.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock sings to Rosie and John sorts out his feelings.

John can’t remember the last time he had been so happy to just stay in his home with Rosie. He was resting his back on the arm of the sofa watching Sherlock play peekaboo with Rosie on the floor. She was just as infatuated with him as he was. Sherlock was simply that wonderful. Did he know this? Sure, he had his moments of being particularly nasty, but so does everybody. But that’s because everyone else made him feel like that it was the only way to live. Sherlock didn’t allow himself to be this soft with anybody besides himself and Mrs. Hudson, sometimes.

“Perfect.”

“What?” Sherlock turned to him and John’s heart skipped a beat.

“What?”

“You said something.” Sherlock was giving him the “you’re a git” look.

“I did?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and tilted his head. “John you’re not making any sense.”

John didn’t realize he said that out loud, but now he was embarrassed and he needed a diversion. “Do you want some tea? I’ve been wanting some for a while now.”

Sherlock was holding Rosie’s hands and he watched John rush to the kitchen with a puzzled look. “I’d like a cup.” John nodded and started to look in cupboards for two cups, he hoped Sherlock wasn’t still staring at him, God he was an idiot. It was only one word, but he let it slip and now Sherlock thinks he’s an idiot. He let out a sigh of relief when he heard Sherlock laughing over Rosie’s mumbling. It made John’s heart sing when he heard her so happy. What he hadn’t expected to hear was Sherlock’s voice singing gently to the baby.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey…”

John closed his eyes and clutched the counter, how much more could he fall in with this man? He was already neck-deep in his amount of love and to hear Sherlock singing, he wasn’t sure he could handle it. Sherlock had so much love in his heart and even the most coldest of men could hear it when he sang. He couldn’t help it, he had to see Sherlock’s face while he sang the children’s song. He wanted to etch the memory of Sherlock’s face while he sang. He turned around and Sherlock was looking directly into Rosie’s eyes, his mouth, the mouth that John loved so much, the soft pink lips that he kissed. That mouth and those lips were curved into a smile so delicate and fragile that John physically felt his heart wrench at how painfully beautiful he was. Sherlock’s blue eyes flickered up to John’s, and he continued to sing softly, “You’ll never know dear, how much I love you…please don’t take my sunshine away…”

John blinked and Sherlock was enveloped in Rosie again, laughing and playing with her. It happened so fast that John thought he imagined it. Sherlock was singing to him. He smiled and returned to making the tea. He replayed Sherlock singing in his mind, despite it just happening. If only it were recorded, he would play it repeatedly until the disc broke. He hummed it softly still thinking of those gorgeous eyes looking right through him, straight into his core and singing those lines so carefully. He heard Sherlock say, “Are you growing the tea leaves yourself? You’re taking an awful long time.”

John chuckled and said, “Exercise patience!”

Sherlock only graced him with yet another treasured smile, and resumed playing with the oblivious infant. John poured the tea into the mugs and whispered, “Please don’t take my sunshine away…”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally have The Talk!

After the tea was made, and Sherlock’s singing turned to humming, John was sat on the sofa with a dozing baby in his arms thinking about Sherlock. Sherlock was in the kitchen trying his hand at making spaghetti. He told John that cooking is chemistry if you think about it, and he is a graduate chemist. John wanted to tell him that there was more to it, but was too distracted to say anything.

He hadn’t said much to Sherlock after their kiss actually. Was it even a kiss? It was more like a peck on the cheeks, he was caught in the heat of the moment, Sherlock kissed him first. He loved it, he wanted to kiss him again, every time he looked at him, his eyes would linger to those pink lips. They felt like cushions compared to his own. After the kiss, John just felt so warm inside, like a fire has been ignited in his heart. Rosie hiccupped, interrupting his thoughts. He looked down and saw that she could barely keep her eyes open and had half a mind to place her in her crib.

“John!”

Sherlock was staring at him from the kitchen with a frown. “I’ve been calling your name for ages.”

John shrugged. “Sorry, I was miles away.”

“Obviously.”

He watched Sherlock rummage through the cabinets until he found the plates. The sound of Sherlock fixing their plates faded as his mind drifted again. Look at him, he’s so perfect. The way he interacted with Rosie, how he fussed about the kitchen trying to cook a meal for the two of them. The domesticity that they shared in 221B flooded his mind in droves. How could he ever think to remove himself of such bliss? Sherlock walked over to him and opened his mouth to speak before his eyes rested on the now sleeping baby in John’s lap.

“Ah, it appears little Rosie was worn down by our playing. She’s making excellent progress with her…”

John’s eyes honed on those lips yet again. The way they enunciated every syllable of his words, the expressiveness of them. John licked his own in the hopes that he would always remember the taste of them. He wished that he didn’t end it so quickly, he wished that he had more courage, he was a soldier dammit! He’s treated the worst wounds, survived an almost fatal gun wound and yet he couldn’t tell his best friend and flatmate that he loved him. He shook his head when he saw Sherlock’s concerned expression.

“John, were you listening to me?”

“Um, yeah, yeah, of course I was. Dinner’s ready?”

Sherlock’s bottom lip quivered a bit and it made John sad to see. Sherlock held his arms out for the baby and said, “I can put her to bed. You can go to the table.”

John nodded absentmindedly and carefully handed her over to Sherlock who walked lightly to her room. John seated himself at the table and stared at the plate that was already prepared for him. He smiled softly at how clean the plate was beside the food directly in the center. John didn’t care much for presentation but of course his posh boy did. He looked over at Sherlock’s plate and saw that it wasn’t nearly as tended to as his own. He loved that man. Sherlock appeared in the dining room and took his seat. His eyes were fixed on John with an eager smile on his face.

“Do you like it?”

“Like what?”

John cursed himself at the way Sherlock deflated. What was he doing wrong? What was making him unhappy when he was so cheerful a few hours ago? Sherlock sighed and looked down at his plate, twirling his spaghetti on his fork and eating it with a mournful look. John did the same and when he swallowed, he looked up and saw Sherlock with his puppy face. John smiled and said, “This is good, Sherlock!”

“Is it really?”

John dabbed his face with the napkin and nodded. “Of course it is. You know I appreciate my pasta.”

The joke fell flat and they continued to eat their dinner in silence. Sherlock finished before John, the man never took the time to enjoy food like John did. He folded his hands on the table and waited for his tablemate to finish his food. When John took his last bite Sherlock got up and collected both of their plates and walked to the sink without a word. John fidgeted in his chair and watched Sherlock wash their plates. Was he mad at John? Was he tired of living with him? It agitated him to see Sherlock in such pain. John closed his eyes and inhaled. He had to ask him.

“Sherlock, are you alright?”

Sherlock stopped scrubbing and looked up at him with sad, glassy eyes. He just stared at John for a while before he muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

Sherlock looked reluctant to continue. John didn’t want to force the answer out of him, but he didn’t want Sherlock to think he had to suffer in silence. John sighed and said, “Fine, we’ll do things your way. Whenever you want to talk, I’m here, okay?”

Sherlock nodded petulantly.

“I know you are, John.”

John smirked and began to help collect the silverware and soiled napkins, since Sherlock ran off with their plates in a haste. It seemed like an eternity between them. Sherlock took the pots and began washing them, and John walked around him, storing the leftovers of the food, placing the silverware in the sink, and binning the used napkins. He rested his back against the counter next to Sherlock, and crossed his arms. Sherlock scrubbed furiously at the clean plate. John placed a hand on Sherlock’s back.

“I can help dry the plates if you would like.”

Wordlessly, Sherlock handed him a plate and John chuckled as he grabbed the rag to dry it. They stood together, focused on their chores. Sherlock broke the silence by whispering, “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

John nearly dropped the plate he was holding. “What?”

“Earlier today, when I kissed you, it was unwarranted and selfish of me.”

John dropped the rag and turned to face him. Sherlock stopped his scrubbing again, his hands submerged in the water as he stood straight and stared at nothing.

“You clearly seem uncomfortable with me now. You tune me out, you reply in short sentences, and what’s worse…you seem bored.”

“Bored?” John was trying to keep his tone level. Sherlock thought he was bored of him? Uninterested? He surely was a madman.

“Now’s not the time to act daft, John. Contrary to popular belief, I know when I’ve overstayed my welcome. Say the word and I’ll pack my things and leave.”

John heard enough of Sherlock’s self-deprecation. He was an idiot, a complete idiot for letting this man think that he of all people became boring and unloved. “Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s chest started to heave as he began his rant and John saw the glistening of tears in his eyes as he poured his heart out to him. “I should be used to this feeling by now, of rejection. I’ve been rejected so…so many times, John. It hurt, it always hurt but I never thought that you would end being one of the people that reject…”

John grabbed Sherlock’s face and brought him into a crushing kiss. He sighed loudly at finally being able to kiss him again, to be able to show his utter love and devotion to the man by something as simple yet passionate as this. Sherlock closed his eyes, and John could taste the saltiness of Sherlock’s tears as they ran down his face and into their mouths. His chest heaved against John’s and he placed his hands on John’s waist to steady himself from the surprise. John pulled away from him, out of breath but never looking away from Sherlock’s gorgeous eyes.

“Listen to me, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that I made you feel like this, like you were alone, that you were anything less than the extraordinary man that I know you are. You are the biggest git to think that I would ever even for one moment lose interest in you. I love you okay? I love you, I love you…” John trailed off and muttered, “I love you” after each kiss he pressed to Sherlock’s wet lips, his salty cheeks, and his forehead.

“You’re so clever, and beautiful, Sherlock I’m utterly besotted, okay? You’re brilliant, and kind, and…Sherlock I don’t think there’s any word in the English language that will ever tell you how dear you are to me.”

Sherlock let out a sob, but he was smiling, he was happy and he was loved and that’s all John could ask for. His face was red and his eyes puffy and swollen from his crying but it was no longer out of pain.

“I only want to hear you say three words, John.” John nearly wept himself at how small and shaky Sherlock’s voice was. He was beautiful when he cried.

“Yes, of course. I love you.”

“No, no.” Sherlock chuckled softly and shook his head as he wiped away the tears. John looked confused at what he wanted. Sherlock took John’s hands off his face and pressed a small, wet kiss to his knuckles.

“I’m a git.”

They both laughed a little louder, and John kissed him again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are in love :)

Sherlock yawned.

His eyes opened slowly and revealed a sleeping John Watson lying next to him. His mouth opened slightly and short bursts of his breath on his face. Sherlock smiled and thought about last night. How John laid awake with him for hours before his crying finally stopped and he fell asleep. He kicked himself, he was displaying a gross expression of emotion yesterday. He threw logic out the window and filled his head with sentiment and he’s ashamed to think of how John saw him crying over the sink full of dishes because he wasn’t talking to him. Sherlock told himself in that moment that he shouldn’t cry because this wasn’t new to him. He knew the day would come when John would finally decide that he wasn’t worth his time, that he could find somebody better than him. He braced himself for the news, and it hurt him to think that he wasn’t enough for John when John was the whole world to him. He nearly made it without crying, but then he looked at John, who was so close to him, drying the dishes and he couldn’t help himself. When John kissed him, and told him that he loved him, he still cried, but it was because the man of his dreams told _him,_ the most obnoxious, rude, and unpleasant man that anyone could have the misfortune to meet, that he loved him.

The only other time Sherlock had been this happy was when John agreed to move in with him.

The _only_ time Sherlock can say that he’s been happy is only when John is around. The love of his life, his blogger, his doctor…

“John Watson.” He breathed. Said man pawed his face and shuffled closer to Sherlock. Sherlock was sitting up; John’s arms were wrapped around his waist and his head was resting on Sherlock’s stomach. He smiled and rested a hand on John’s back, raking his free hand through the soft blond hair. He had to admit, John’s new hair was very fitting for him, he was always handsome to Sherlock. John let out a soft groan at Sherlock’s head massage and held him even tighter.

“Don’t stop.” John spoke, still half-sleep. Sherlock chuckled. “I have no intention to.”

Sherlock heard John yawn. He raised his head to look at Sherlock. His eyes were still glassy from sleep, and his smile lopsided but so warm and compassionate that Sherlock thought he would cry all over again.

“Do you know that you look quite stunning when you wake up?” John laughed at the question and rolled his eyes. They didn’t say anything after that, John moved to rest his head on Sherlock’s chest, and closed his eyes from the pleasure Sherlock’s massage was giving him.

“You kissed me last night. Well, we kissed for a second time.”

“Yes, I remember.” The conversation trailed off for a bit before John asked, “Why?”

Sherlock’s hands clutched to John’s hair at the question.

“I…I was…I wanted to know if we could, quite possibly, make it a third time?”

John’s laugh came out as a breath. He opened his eyes and sat up to Sherlock’s level.

“Yeah, Sherlock, we can make it a third time, and a fourth time, we can kiss as many times as we want.”

Sherlock felt the blush rising in his cheeks as he thought about all the future kisses they would share. All the days and nights he would fall asleep and wake up in John’s arms. He was so excited to finally be with John, and not just as best friends or flat mates or even as bedmates. He was allowed be _in love_ with John and shower him adoration and affection that the soldier needed desperately. He hummed.

“Let’s make it a third time and see if it is enough.” Sherlock’s lips were already starting to pucker. John’s pressed against his and Sherlock moaned at the joy of being able to do this. John’s mouth spread into a smile, still pressed against Sherlock’s, and he was laughing. Sherlock joined him, the two still nose-to-nose with each other, grinning in the other’s face.

“Was that enough?” John’s voice lowered, making Sherlock’s smile widen to its limits.

“It was enough, John. You’re enough for me.” They both shared a few more kisses until they heard Rosie’s cries from down the hall.

“The day awaits us, love.” John threw his blankets off his body and left to tend to his daughter. Sherlock was still in the bed, fingers lightly caressing his lips and in awe. He put his hand down and whispered, “Love?”

He couldn’t help but smile to himself.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock thinks about John calling him love, and what he means to him

_He called me love._

And that seemed to be the one word that Sherlock heard after their morning together. When he finally joined John in Rosie’s room, the blond already had the baby laid out on the changing table. Her diaper was just removed. John looked up at Sherlock and smiled. He reached his hand toward the baby’s items and said, “Could you get me a wipe and nappy, love?”

There it was again. John called him _that_ word. He called him love. For a moment, he nearly forgot that John asked him to get something. He went and got the items and handed them over to John, then retreated to leaning on the doorway.

_Love._

Sherlock rested his head on the wood, suddenly feeling drunk with affection for John.

The second time, they were in the living room, Rosie was demolishing her stuffed bee while watching the television. Sherlock was sat on the couch while John fixed them breakfast. John’s specialty was eggs with beans on toast. Sometimes, he would sneak a few slices of ham from Mrs. Hudson while she was away and then cook it for their meal. Sherlock never much cared for breakfast, but with John, he would gladly sit and share a meal. He looked into the kitchen to see his lover standing over the stove humming some tune in his head. Sherlock smirked at how adorable he found the man to be at times. Rosie was tugging at his pant leg, he looked down and saw the blue-eyed baby smiling up at him with her fist in her mouth.

“Oh, did you finally grow bored of mutilating that poor bee?”

He looked over at the once fluffy bee and sighed. It was a gift for her and this was how she treated it. He placed her on his lap and watched the children’s show. He let her grab his ring finger and briefly, Sherlock imagined a gold band on it. He shook his head. John said he loved him, not that he wanted to marry him. For everything that’s happened, John may not be too keen on the thought of remarrying.

“Time to eat, love.” John’s smile made Sherlock dizzy. How could such a mouth show this much emotion?

_I am his love_

Sherlock looked down at Rosie and whispered, “I am his love, Rosie.” To which the infant just continued to suck on her fist. He seated himself at the table after placing Rosie in her special chair directly in front of the television. John was waiting for him. They shared a glance before digging in. While they ate, Sherlock felt John’s leg brush against his. Maybe it was an accident, Sherlock thought. But then he felt the leg again. He blushed and tried to hide his face from the chuckling man across the table.

“What’s the matter? Do you want me to stop?”

Sherlock reacted faster than he could think and shook his head. John put his fork down and sat back, trying to get a good look at Sherlock’s face. Sherlock resisted every urge he had to look John in his eyes and kept eating.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

Sherlock shrugged cursing his blushing cheeks. “I’ve been told.”

“Oh yeah? By who?”

“…You.”

Sherlock’s smile turned smug when he saw John’s cheeks matching his own. Now they matched. John grinned at him.

The third time was when they took to lounging together on the sofa while Rosie dominated whatever they had on the television. John tried to change to the news for a moment and Rosie started shrieking whenever anything other than the Teletubbies on the screen. So, there they were, stuck watching the Teletubbies. John was indifferent to it, Sherlock, was horrified at how children found such frightening creatures entertaining.

John was lying in between Sherlock’s legs, with his head resting on his chest. Sherlock had his arms wrapped around John’s so that his hands were laying on his chest. John’s hands were rubbing Sherlock’s arms slowly, it was very ticklish.

“Care for tea, love?”

_He’s in love with me._

“Yes, I do.”

John got up to fix their cups and Sherlock was left to think about John calling him that word so many times in one day.

That night, they were both in Rosie’s room trying to find ways to coax her to sleep. Sherlock was rubbing her stomach and shushing her, meanwhile John tried to give her warm milk. When she finally fell asleep, they stood over her crib and watched her little chest rise and fall softly. John yawned and said, “Are you ready for bed?”

Sherlock nodded. “Just give me a moment to brush my teeth.”

John rose on his tippy toes to kiss Sherlock’s lips. “I’ll see you in bed, love.”

After John walked out the room, only one thing crossed his mind.

_I love him._


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys spend the day in bed, telling the other what they love about the other.

“Tell me again.”

They were all lying in bed. Rosie was happily napping on top of the two men, who were staring up at the ceiling smiling and chatting the day away. John had stared at Sherlock and when prompted by the other, he started to rattle off all the things he loved about him.

“You’re quite full of yourself Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock scoffed. “Indulge me, John. Please.”

John rolled his eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh fine, whatever Sherlock wants, Sherlock gets.”

Sherlock smiled and moved Rosie up so that her face would be buried in the crook of his neck. Her soft breaths tickling at the skin of his neck. John was stroking her hair to help her stay asleep.

“Let’s see, let’s see…I love your hair. I’ve always loved it. I love the way it looks when you wake up. I love the way it looks when you style it, although I don’t appreciate how long you take to do it, love. I adore your curls so very much, Sherlock. I love that they’re on your head, and I love that you wear them so well.”

Sherlock’s face was as red as could possibly be. John laughed, showing all his teeth this time. Sherlock liked the fact that he was so happy. That he finally felt good enough to laugh with him.

“Okay, okay. I love your eyes. I absolutely love your eyes, Sherlock. I love the fact that they’re so expressive on you. Even when you think you’re being this stone-cold detective, your eyes always give you away. They’re so blue, sometimes they’re a mixture of blue and green, they’re absolutely stunning, Sherlock.”

Sherlock rolled over so that Rosie and he were now nose-to-nose so that John wouldn’t see just how much he made him blush. The baby’s breath smelled like the formula she drank an hour ago, and Sherlock pressed a tiny kiss to her button-nose.

“Anything else, John?” Sherlock’s voice was as soft as he could will it, careful not to wake the baby up.

“You know how I feel about you, Sherlock. You know I love being with you, that I love waking up to your face in the morning. You’re so fucking gorgeous, Sherlock. God, I don’t think there’s enough words to help you fully understand how captivated I am with you. Look at me now, I don’t think anyone could ever make me smile like I am now.”

Sherlock propped his head up, his blush lessened so that his cheeks looked relatively normal. His elbow rested underneath his head and his other arm now wrapped around Rosie’s tiny body. He stared at John and yes, it was true that he loved Sherlock like he’s never loved before. But does John truly know the extent of how much John was loved and needed? He waited for the conversation to die away. John hadn’t said anything, and Sherlock was waiting for John to say something. Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed. Oh John…

“Aren’t you going to ask me?”

John’s brows furrowed and he turned to face Sherlock. “Ask you what?”

Sherlock’s mouth hung open. “John! Aren’t you going to ask me what I love about you?”

“Oh. Well, it’s probably a short list.”

“John, I can’t believe you just said that to me.” Sherlock immediately sat up and grabbed Rosie in his arms. He walked off with her and then returned shortly. He laid right next to John and made sure that the man’s eyes were on him.

“John, do you know what I love about you?”

John shook his head. Sherlock’s hands hovered above his face and landed on his cheeks. “I love your cheeks so much, so round and soft. I love your face. You have the face of a soldier, and I don’t just mean because of the army. I hope that when you look into the mirror you see the most handsome man on earth, because that’s how I feel every time I see you.”

Sherlock placed two kisses to both of John’s cheek. He moved to John’s hair and ran his hand through it.

“And this hair. John your hair so perfect to me! So, blond and shiny. You usually wear it like you’re still in the army, but can I tell you now that I really, really love what you’ve done with it recently. You look so handsome, I wish you’d believe me when I tell you.”

Sherlock kissed John’s smiling lips and moved down to his stomach. John watched with careful eyes as Sherlock pulled his shirt up and kissed the pudge. John blushed and threw his hands to his face.

“Christ, Sherlock.”

“John, I know you hate it, I see the way you stare at yourself when you think I’m not watching. John, my conductor of light, love of my life, one of the things I love the most about you is this pudge. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re perfect the way you are. I love the way your shirts show this little softness whenever you tuck them in, or sit down. Do you know how proud I am when I see this?”

“How proud?”

“I am so immensely proud of you, John! When I met you, you were rivaling me in being thin. I see this, as well as your scars, as progress to how far you’ve come. You’re so much stronger than you think you are John. Do not think for a second that you are anything less than perfect to me, do you understand?”

John’s eyes were wide at Sherlock’s words. They were glassy too and that nearly moved the brunet to tears. Sherlock smiled at John’s shock and kissed him on the mouth, he pulled away and saw that John’s mouth was still open. He kissed him again and again until John finally responded. When they pulled away, Sherlock moved to rest his head on John’s stomach when he heard John’s low voice say,

“Tell me again.”  

“Yes, John. I’ll tell you again and again until you understand how dear you are to me.”

When John thought he wasn’t looking, Sherlock spotted the lonely tear roll down his cheek and frown. This man deserved all the love in the world.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting a bit steamy now :) .....

From that day on, Sherlock took note of John’s behavior in the flat. He noticed how the man took to wearing tighter shirts, when he wasn’t snuggled up in his beloved jumpers. Sherlock nearly fainted one night, he was watching Rosie while John was having a shower. John usually came out wearing all his clothes, but this time, John emerged with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Even Rosie halted her playing to stare at her very naked father. John smoothed his hair back and walked over to the two with a warm smile on his face. He kissed Rosie’s head, earning him a smile from her. He moved to kiss Sherlock’s lips and Sherlock merely stared. John titled his head and caressed his cheek. Then, without a word he got up and walked to his bedroom to dress. The only thing that Sherlock could think of was how _good_ he looked. His body damp, with the beads of water on his blond chest hair, the towel wrapped tightly around his waist so that the roundness of his stomach hung slightly over the edge. His scar that stretched across his shoulder was a bit pink from being under the hot water. His hair, oh his hair, wet and long and styled into the swoop that Sherlock has come to love so much.

It made Sherlock’s heart warm to see that John was finally starting to become more confident after their talk, it also excited him because he had so much more to say to John. That man deserved to be showered in love the same way he did Sherlock. They lay in bed and he saw John strip himself of his shirt and lay down beside him. Sherlock rolled over so that his head was resting on John’s unbelievably soft chest, and his hand was on top of his stomach. He closed his eyes and inhaled John’s scent. Like mint and lavender. Sherlock smirked, he was using his soap.

“John.”

John’s hands were carding through Sherlock’s curls. He moaned in response. Good, he was still awake.

“Either I’ve gone mad or you are especially naked tonight.”

“Is it bothering you?” Sherlock could hear the smirk. He didn’t respond.

“I could always put a shirt back on.” When he started to move, Sherlock held him down and said, “No! I like it. Your skin is quite soft.”

John’s chest rumbled and his hand continued stroking the brown curls.

“You know, Sherlock. What you’ve said to me that day. About all the things you loved about me. At first, I thought you were taking the piss, or trying to make me feel like something I wasn’t. But I don’t know if you realize it, but, when you’re being sincere there’s this…this glint in your eyes and your face it softens and becomes what I now know as the real you.”

Sherlock’s eyes were still closed, but he wasn’t asleep.

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is. You made me feel good about myself. And I hadn’t realized until then how good it feels to be….”

“Be what, John?”

“How good it feels to be validated, and loved.”

It must have taken a lot of courage for John to work up the nerves to say something like that. He was being so extraordinarily brave and Sherlock was so proud of him. Sherlock sat up and kissed him gently.

“John, it is my duty as your lover to tell you all the things I love about you, just as you do to me every waking moment. You’re my best friend, you know that right?”

“I know it, Sherlock. You’re my best friend too.”

Sherlock smiled even though John wouldn’t be able to see it clearly, and returned to his original position, falling asleep faster than he ever had in his life.

The next day, John finally had to return to work. It was different without him there. Sherlock had just gotten used to his constant presence again, and now, he was gone. Rosie didn’t seem to mind the absence much, she was usually with Sherlock for most the day anyway, he wondered if she even knew John was gone. He busied himself with playing with her, watching yet another rerun of Teletubbies in sheer horror, and thinking about new cases Lestrade might have. They were probably fives and below, so he let the thought go quickly. He looked at the clock, John would be due home soon and Rosie had yet to have her supper. By the time he fed her, John returned home. She could barely keep her eyes open.

“Did she give you any trouble today?”

Sherlock shook his head, afraid that his voice would wake her. John walked over to the two and gave them kisses. He looked tired.

“I’m going to have a shower, Sherlock.” He spoke lowly so he wouldn’t wake the baby. Sherlock watched as he disappeared into their room before going to Rosie’s to set her down. The shower already started, and Sherlock was quick to grab a change of clothes and walk into the bathroom. John sighed loudly, he must have just stepped in. Sherlock shed his clothes, he was meaning to do that after Rosie threw up on him. He looked down at himself, stark naked. He took a deep breath and stepped into the shower. John turned around, hair already lathered with shampoo, body soaking wet.

“Sherlock?”

“John.”

John laughed. The man could be butt naked, and still act like the most pompous ass in the room. John took the time to survey Sherlock. He was so thin, yet, he had muscles from all the cases he’s taken on and solved. All the years of fighting and trying to be strong. He looked like something out of a museum.

“Are we feeling a little impatient? Couldn’t wait your turn, huh?”

“I thought you might want the company. You seemed stressed today.”

John exhaled and crossed his arms. “I forgot how much patience you need to be a GP. Why do people insist on coming into a clinic when they know they’ve only got a cold?”

Sherlock smiled and moved to massage John’s shoulders. “There there, John, it’s okay. I’m here.”

“You are, you’re here and very naked too.”

“As are you.”

John moaned at the massage and the hot water hitting his body.

“We should do something about this, should we?”

Sherlock grabbed John’s face and kissed him. He kissed him again, and again, and again.

“Sherl….”

“Shhh, John. You’ve had a tiresome day at work, please, let me take care of you tonight.”

His kisses started to trail down to John’s neck, eliciting a louder moan. Sherlock smirked as he traveled lower and lower until he got to where he needed. He smiled.

John seemed pretty excited too.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys' first time together.

“Fuck…” Was all John could say as Sherlock took his cock into his mouth. It didn’t take Sherlock long to make John hard. As soon his tongue touched the tip, it rose. Sherlock looked up at John with a smirk and said, “Were you looking forward to this?”  
  


John bit his lip and nodded. “Don’t tease me, Holmes.”  
  


Sherlock moved slowly, bringing another drawn out moan from John’s mouth. The water was still beating at John’s back and now they were both drenched in water and pre-cum. John’s hands immediately went to the brunet’s hair and grabbed handfuls of the curls to keep himself under control. John let go off his hair and placed on hand on the wall as he felt Sherlock’s tongue flick and circle his head. Sherlock’s eyes darted up to John as he sucked and licked his cock like his life depended on it.  
  


“Sherl…Ahh…”  
  


Sherlock chuckled and removed his mouth, leaving a string of spit and semen.  
  


“How close are you?”  
  


John’s eyes were closed. He jolted as he felt Sherlock’s tongue trail his whole length. His chest heaved as he felt the growing pressure in his groin, he was close.  
  


“….God…I’m close…”  
  


Sherlock smiled and placed the erection in his mouth. John stifled a loud moan and tried to steady himself for his climax. God it’s been so long since he’s had this. Sherlock’s so gorgeous, he felt so good, oh god he was coming. It was a lot too, poor Sherlock. John let out a series of fucks until his orgasm was over. His knees almost buckled, he was in seventh heaven. Sherlock’s mouth was wonderful.  
  


“Fuck.”  
  


Sherlock smiled and spit. The water washing away any evidence of what just happened.  
  


“How was that?” Sherlock’s voice was unsure, nervous almost, and even though John was still recovering from the amazing oral, he didn’t want Sherlock to think he was inadequate.  
  


“No, no, fuck…you were wonderful Sherlock. Just fantastic.”  
  


Sherlock’s cheeks blushed and his smile was bashful. “Thank you.” He said softly. John grabbed his hands and helped him stand. He kissed Sherlock’s cheek and then his lips, those gorgeous lips.  
  


“Let’s get out of here, I think we’re more than clean.” He moved to shut the water off. Sherlock looked confused and stepped out with him. John took the towel and dried himself off and Sherlock too. Sherlock went to put his clothes on but John shook his head.  
  


“Oh no you don’t, you didn’t think that I would just let you go without returning the favor did you?”  
  


Sherlock looked shy and shrugged. “You don’t have to…”  
  


“Sherlock. Shut up. I love you and I want to make you feel as good as you did for me. Will you let me?”  
  


Sherlock stared into his eyes, before grinning and nodding. John kissed him and pulled him towards their bedroom. When they were in front of the bed, John began covering Sherlock in kisses. He pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s lips again, and then his cheeks, and then stopped right when he got to his neck.  
  


“Is this okay? Are you alright?”  
  


Sherlock nodded, touched that John was so concerned about making him feel good. John smiled and then gently pushed Sherlock so that he was laying on the bed. He straddled Sherlock and continued to kiss his neck, and then made his way down to his chest. He relished the soft moans Sherlock made as he littered his body in soft kisses. John moved back to his mouth, and kissed him deeply, allowing for their tongues to intertwine. When he pulled away, he felt Sherlock’s growing hardness tickling around his bum. He smiled and started to stroke Sherlock’s hair.  
  


“I’m going to touch you now, okay love? Can I?”  
  


Sherlock nodded, breathing heavily at the pleasure John was giving him. John looked over at his nightstand and pulled out the lube that he bought ages ago. He opened the bottle and dipped two fingers inside the bottle, slicking them so that he wouldn’t hurt Sherlock.  
  


“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”  
  


Sherlock nodded and soon felt the cool, wet fingers slide into him. He gasped and shivered as the fingers slid in and out. Sherlock sat up and latched onto John’s body, whimpering. John shushed him and with his free hand, he placed his fingers under Sherlock’s chin and turned it so that he could get a good look at his face.  
  


“You’re so beautiful, you know that? God I love you, you’re so perfect.”  
  


Sherlock nodded, unable to speak as John’s fingers felt too good for words. John was staring at him with such loving eyes that he could hardly stand it. He called him beautiful, he called him love, his cheeks were flushed from being called such sweet things by the man of his dreams.  
  


“I love you, Sherlock.” And soon his free hand left Sherlock’s chin and traveled down to Sherlock’s erection. He started to slowly pump, causing Sherlock to sigh loudly.  
  


“You like this, huh?”  
  


Sherlock’s face was a beautiful shade of red from the pleasure and the flattery of John’s compliments. When John gradually increased his speed on Sherlock’s cock, Sherlock could not help but to let out a soft, “John…”  
  


“Say my name like that again. Please, love. You feel so good, I like to see you feel this good. You’re extraordinary, you’re dashing, utterly handsome.”  
  


Sherlock shifted a bit. It was too much, John’s fingers, his hand, the praise. Sherlock didn’t know how much longer he was going to last.  
  


“Hold on just a bit longer, you’re doing so well, I’m so proud of you.”  
  


“I…John….”  
  


Sherlock’s cock was already leaking pre-cum, John smiled at the sight. He wanted to satisfy Sherlock.  
  


“Ah, is it that good?”  
  


Sherlock could barely speak and he knew it. His face was perfect. His body was so perfect. John was in love with the perfect man. He kissed his lips, and could feel Sherlock’s moans vibrate on his. He pulled away to get a good look at Sherlock flushed and excited. He wanted to make him look like that all the time.  
  


“John…I can’t…I can’t hold it…any longer…”  
  


“Alright, it’s okay. Finish, Sherlock.”  
  


Immediately John’s hand was covered in Sherlock’s cum. His cock, resembling a fountain with the way Sherlock came. How long had he wanted this?  
He shuddered as each wave of his climax hit him. He was so new to this, it warmed John’s heart. John kissed Sherlock as he came, there were tears running down the man’s face. “You did so well, I’m so proud of you. I love you.” He whispered as Sherlock’s moans turned into whimpers. They both fell back on the bed, Sherlock got up to clean himself and John’s hand off. Once they were clean and dry, they cuddled.  
  


“How was that, Mr. Holmes?”  
  


Sherlock sighed and kissed John. “It was perfect. I love you.”  
  


John smiled back and said, “I love you too, Sherlock. Always.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock talk more about the word "love".

The first thing John thinks when he rolls over is _He’s naked._

Sherlock Holmes was naked in his bed. He was fast asleep, lying on his stomach, bare ass exposed, the sheets only covering one of his legs. The sunlight crept in through the closed curtains. It shone on him and made him look like an angel. His mouth hung open slightly, every other breath was a snore, his curls fell haphazardly on his face. His afterglow was beautiful.

The second thing John thinks is _He’s naked, but god is he gorgeous._

Sherlock sighs softly and paws at his face. John looks at his own body. He was naked, but his sheet covered his lower regions. He looked up at the ceiling and smiled. He had never felt that intimate with anyone, sorry Mary. That was more than sex, it was more than lust. They made love last night. It was wonderful and everything John thought it would be. Sherlock’s moans, his whimpers, the way his face looked when he finally came. It was too beautiful for words. John looked back over at the brunet, and rested a hand on his back. His skin was so soft, he worried that if he held him too tight he would bruise. And that _arse._ Dear god above, what a perfect thing it was. Plump, firm, it made John salivate just thinking about it. He wanted to do more with Sherlock last night, but the poor man had never had sex before and he didn’t want to scare him from the act altogether. That was the thing with Sherlock, you couldn’t rush things, it all had to be slow, it had to progress in stages.

For Sherlock, John would wait forever. His love, his life.

His hand moves to the mess of curls and runs his fingers through them, careful not to wake Sherlock. The man lets out a soft moan and John grins. In all regards he was beautiful.

He wanted nothing more but to lay in bed, watching this man sleep, but the day awaited, Rosie was due to cry at any moment. He had work. He had half a mind to call in sick.

“Love, wake up. Come on Sherlock.”

His eyes fluttered open and immediately his mouth curled into a smile. He whispered, “Good morning.” and kissed John. John moaned into the kiss, he wanted him so bad. He _loved_ him so much. Sherlock pulled away and rested his head on John’s chest, the hair tickling his cheek.

“Good morning my love.”

“I like that word.” Sherlock said, his eyes closed and his hand rubbing John’s stomach.

“What word?”

“Don’t be daft, John, you know what word.”

“Word?”

Sherlock chuckled and shook his head. “No.”

“Then it must be ‘what’.”

“It’s not that either.”

“Well now you must tell me, I’m afraid I’m at a loss.” John was teasing him now.

“Love, John. I like it when you call me love.”  Sherlock’s voice was so gentle, he sounded like a child. John’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Do you? I guess I’ll have to call you that more often, won’t we?”

“Yes, I guess you do.”

Sherlock’s head was close enough that John could kiss it without much effort. He did, and then he stroked it. He looked at his clock. It was time for him to get ready. Rosie started crying.

“Come love, the day awaits us.”

John tapped Sherlock’s shoulder for him to move over so he could sit up. Sherlock laid, one arm propped under his head, watching a very naked John make his way to his closet. Silence fell in the room, but it was comfortable. They were comfortable.

The third thing that John thought was _He’s naked, but god he’s gorgeous and I love him._


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock calls John at work and they both sing

When John kissed Sherlock goodbye, he immediately missed him. He took the taxi to his job and couldn’t stop thinking about him the whole ride. He looked so perfect wrapped in his housecoat, holding Rosie, kissing his cheek and wishing him a good day at work. It was all so domestic. He looked at the clock, one minute passed, he looked again. Three minutes passed. Clinics are never slow, it’s that some days people seem perfectly healthy, and then others, the whole of London is trying to get themselves examined. Today was one of the days where he was going to see more paperwork than patients, save for the moms who insisted that there was something wrong with their kid, or the usual patient that searched their symptoms online and are convinced they’re dying. Other than that, there was hours of him thinking about Sherlock and Rosie, wondering what the two were doing. Teletubbies was probably over now, he knew how much Sherlock hated that show. He smiled just thinking about the man’s face.

He missed him so much.

Maybe he could call them right now, his boss wouldn’t care, and it wasn’t like there were patients lining up to see him today. Was Sherlock’s phone even on? Was Rosie snapping pictures on it again by accident? He made one of those his lockscreen when Sherlock wasn’t looking. The picture showed Rosie’s wide eyes from the flash, and Sherlock moving to take the phone away. He was adorable.

His phone was vibrating and it was just the person he wanted to call. He heard Rosie screaming in the background. Sherlock must have been holding her.

“Sherlock, hey.”

“John, when was the last time Rosie…went?”

John’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, she’s a bit cranky right now and her diaper’s been lacking a bit of…solid matter….”

John’s eyes widened and he said, “Oh. She’s not shitting.”

He laughed at Sherlock’s exasperation. “You put it so eloquently John. Yes, Rosie hasn’t shat.”

“Um, there should be a bit of castor oil in the bathroom. Give her a bit and see if that works.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Give her tummy a little massage, and feed her some mashed prunes or something. But be patient, love, don’t need her exploding.”

“Yes, okay.” He sounded distracted, John heard some rustling and Sherlock trying to shush the baby. John pressed his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he resumed the paperwork. “She alright?”

“I think she’s having a bit of tummy pain. We’re in the bathroom now, I’ve just given her a sip of the oil. She didn’t eat much this morning.”

“Aw, poor thing.”

“Are you referring to me or the baby?” Sherlock deadpanned. John snorted. “Obviously the one who’s in pain, Sherlock.”

“I appreciate the sentiment then.” Sherlock laughed a bit and John heard some rustling.

“I think she wants to hear your voice. Let me just quiet her down for a second. Are you busy right now?”

“Never too busy for you, love.”

Sherlock didn’t respond, but John could hear him blush through the phone. He waited a bit before he heard Sherlock singing to the baby.

“You’re my honeybunch sugarplum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin, you’re my sweetie pie. You’re my cuppycake gumdrop snoogums boogums you’re…”

“The apple of my eye…” John finished. His cheeks were tinted red as he listened to Sherlock’s soft voice sooth the crying baby. Sherlock chuckled and kept singing, and John joined in with him, not caring how he looked to his boss or anyone that walked past his office. He knew this nursery song, and he missed the opportunity to sing with Sherlock last time.

In unison, the men sang, “And I love you so and I want you to know that I’ll always be right here, and I love to sing sweet songs to you because you are so dear…”

Rosie was silent now but he could hear her soft noises through the phone. John was sitting in his office grinning like an idiot. One day he’s just going to sing to Sherlock, with Sherlock, he didn’t know. He just wanted to hear the man sing again. Sherlock was talking to Rosie now, “Are we better now?”

John’s heart melted as he listened to the two, well, mainly Sherlock.

“I think she’s okay now, I’m sorry if I bothered you.”

“It’s fine, Sherlock. It’s all fine.”

John had a guess they were both smiling into the phone now. Sherlock coughed and said, “I’ll see you when you come back.”

“Mhm, sure will. Takeaway tonight? I was going to stop at the shops but Rosie’s not well…”

“Well the oil is not going to work for a few hours, and she seems calm now. I can try to get a bit of the shopping done if you would like. But still, order takeaway tonight.”

“You’re bossy.”

Another laugh. “Goodbye, John.”

“I love you, Sherlock.” It came out, but he’s been dying to say it again. Any chance he gets.

“I love you too, John.” He hung up and sank back in his chair.

“What a lucky, lucky man I am.” He sighed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John comes home to find out about the hilarious day Sherlock had.

John came home to find Sherlock and Rosie sat on the floor playing with her toys. He smiled and walked over to the two. He bent down to press a kiss to Sherlock’s head.

“Hello, John.” Sherlock looked up at John with a warm smile on his face. John smiled back and stood up. He ruffled the man’s curls and walked over to the coat rack.

“Hey, Sherlock. I ordered takeaway on the ride over, so don’t get too comfortable.”

“Good, I was starving.”

John turned and crossed his arms. “Didn’t you two go shopping today?”

Sherlock huffed and started to stroke Rosie’s hair. “Yes.”

“Where are the groceries?”

“Packed away. We actually got back not too long ago.”

John’s eyes widened. “Sherlock!”

Said man lifted his hands in surrender at John’s exclamation. His cheeks tinged red and he said, “John, you know that shopping is not my skill. I’ve not quite got your knack for it. We left shortly after our phone call and Rosie felt a little better. You know that I want everything to be perfect for you when you get home because you’re always so tired and stressed when you come back.”

Sherlock was carding his fingers through Rosie’s blonde locks as he talked about his day. John’s shoulders sagged at what he said. It was true that John wasn’t really in the best of moods when coming home from work although he tried to not let it affect Sherlock and his baby. But Sherlock’s a genius, and he knows when John’s had a bad day.

“I admit I spent a little longer in the shop than ordinary people do. I got distracted a few times along the way and bought somethings for Rosie. Of course, I hadn’t realized just _how_ long I was there until…” He shuddered.

John was sitting on the couch now. He was concerned at Sherlock’s sudden halt. “Until what, love?”

John didn’t miss the way Sherlock smiled to himself at being called that endearment. Sherlock’s hand moved underneath Rosie’s chin to tilt her head so that she would look him in the eyes. “Would you like to tell daddy what you did?”

John’s heart sank. Oh no, what did she do? Did she knock over a whole shelf of cereal boxes? Did she break all the baby food jars? Did she get him banned from yet another store with her infant antics? What did she do? Rosie laughed and kept playing. “Well, I’m glad you find this so humorous.”

“What did she do, Sherlock?”

Sherlock turned to face John now. He hugged his knees to his chest and wore a wry smile. He cocked his head and John wanted to kiss the smug look off his face. “Tell you what, let’s play a game of deduction.”

John breathed out a laugh despite himself. “Oh, you arse.”

“Don’t worry, I promise this won’t take very long, if you are able to spot the clues.”

John sat back in his seat and folded his hands on his lap. “Okay, Sherlock. Start me off.”

“Your first hint. Take a good long look at Rosie’s outfit.”

John looked over at his baby who was occupied with the letter blocks scattered on the carpet. Her hair grew a bit longer, it was now covering the tips of her ears. Her chin was wet with drool. Her outfit was a red long-sleeved shirt underneath overalls that had a bee sewn onto her chest pocket. John’s brows furrowed slightly at her clothes. What was off about them?

“Sherlock?”

“Yes, my dear John?”

“Rosie’s clothes…look a bit off.”

Sherlock bit his lip and nodded. “You’re getting warm.”

“Was she wearing that when I left this morning? I know you dressed her differently.”

“Quite on the mark. Keep going.”

“And, there’s laundry on the kitchen table. Your clothes are there with hers.”

“And bring it home!”

John’s mouth gaped and he sat up. “Oh my god…you forgot about the castor oil.”

Sherlock stayed silent, his smugness gone. John had laughter in his voice as he continued, “Sherlock you, forgot about her having castor oil and she shat all over the place in the shop, didn’t she?”

Sherlock’s eyes danced away from John’s. John couldn’t help but love the man even more. He spent so much time trying to make John happy that Rosie, the ticking time bomb, literally exploded in the middle of his shopping.

“Fortunately, another woman was in the aisle with me when it happened, she was also a parent, she helped me clean the trolley, myself, and Rosie up with the wipes she carried.”

John looked at Rosie, who was now staring at him laughing. He shook his head. “Rosie! You shat on Sherlock Holmes!”

“It’s alright, it was my fault for spending so long there in the first place…”

John cut him off by saying, “Good girl!”

He lost it at Sherlock’s face. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide. He was offended at John’s praising. “John Watson!”

“She has done the impossible today, Sherlock.” He looked triumphantly at the now excited infant. Sherlock rolled his eyes and got off the floor and walked in the direction of their room. John was still laughing as he called after Sherlock, picking the baby up in the process. “Oh, come off it, Sherlock, I was just kidding!”

“John, I had to walk down the streets with such an awful smell because of her! I could hardly catch a cab because of her! It was awful!”

John walked into the room and joined his sulking boyfriend on the bed and kissed him. “You know I don’t mean it, love. If anything, I’m more grateful that you helped Rosie with her stomach pains.”

Sherlock huffed and pouted. John kissed him again. “I love you.”

John waited patiently for Sherlock to look him in the eyes and smile. Sherlock whispered, “I love you too, John.”

“I have a question, Sherlock?”

“What?”

John could barely contain the smile he had when he asked, “So is ‘No shit Sherlock’ banned from the house now?”

He had to put Rosie down as Sherlock locked himself in the bathroom while he howled at his joke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to update everyday, but bear with me if some of them take a bit longer.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Rosie surprise John for his lunch break.

“What do you say we visit your father today for lunch?”

Rosie smiled and giggled. Sherlock stroked her cheek.

“I really would like for you to get out of the house more often.”

Sherlock waited for a response. Rosie hiccupped and started playing with her blocks. Sherlock sighed.

“Come, let’s find you more suitable clothing, hm? Preferably some without food stains.”

He bent down to pick her up. He went into her room and picked out a purple shirt with a dog on it and some shorts, the weather was a bit warm. He eased her soiled dress off her, she laughed when the dress covered her face. He hummed a tune as they quietly prepared for their outing to John’s clinic. Rosie had become restless recently, Sherlock thought that it had something to do with her going shopping with him. She liked going out, and there hadn’t been much opportunity to go anywhere beside the shops.

“I should have known that even the Teletubbies would not hold your attention forever.” He smirked at the idea of finally being able to miss an episode of the terrifying show.

He changed her diaper before he put her new clothes on, thankfully it was only pee. He’s scarred from their previous time together. When he held her up to blow a raspberry to her stomach, she kicked in him in throat and he thought he was going to die.

“That’s enough of that.” he croaked. He put her clothes on and then took her to his and John’s room so that he could get dressed. If he wanted to make it on time for lunch, he would have to skip on the shower. Maybe he would have a bath with John today. He changed quickly and gave a brief smile to the baby who was sat on the bed, playing with the string of his robe. He picked her up and tickled her stomach.

“Alright my tiny Watson, off we go.”

He took the spare key from the kitchen and clicked all the lights off before leaving the flat. He hailed a cab and held onto the baby tightly as they traveled to the clinic. When they got there, he walked up to the receptionist and put on his politest smile. She set the phone down and immediately began to dote over Rosie, who was busy twisting around surveying the new environment.

“Is John Watson available?”

She nodded. “He’s about to go for lunch, actually.”

“That’s fine, I was here to join him.”

She shrugged and pointed down the hall. “Last room on your left.”

“Thank you.” He readjusted Rosie and walked down the hall. He found John hunched over his desk finishing up some paperwork before he went on his break. Sherlock smiled softly at the sight and knocked on the door three times. John looked up and was surprised at first, but his shock gave way to a grin.

“Good afternoon, love.”

Sherlock walked into the room and gave him a kiss. John rubbed Rosie’s leg and said, “Hello, Rosie.”

“Come on, we’re going for lunch.”

John chuckled and tapped his pen on his desk. “You couldn’t wait until this evening?”

“You know that I miss my man.” Sherlock teased. John stood up and pulled Sherlock into another kiss. He opened the closet and pulled his jacket out. Sherlock walked out first and let John close his door. John signaled to the nurse that he was leaving, she, still on the phone, only waved.

“So, what do you feel like, Sherlock? There’s a few places I tend to frequent.”

Rosie was getting heavy so he repositioned her. It was a good thing he brought the carrier in the diaper bag. “Well, this is your lunch break. Show me how John Watson spends lunch.”

John laughed at that and nodded. “Right. There’s a café just up the block, it has outdoor seating and I think it’s nice enough to sit outside, or do you want to pick up some food and sit in the park?”

Sherlock looked down at the excited baby, she was squirming at the sight of the park across the street and he couldn’t help but smile. “I think Rosie would prefer the park.”

John was staring at Sherlock with a gentle smirk. “Yeah, the park it is.”

So, they stopped off at the café for a pastry and some coffee and then went to the park. They sat on a bench and talked, while John sipped his coffee and Sherlock fed the baby. There was a pause in their conversation, Rosie just finished the last of her baby food, and John took a few sips from his coffee.

“This park reminds me of the day I ran into Mike.”

Sherlock was wiping Rosie’s mouth. “Oh yeah?”

“You know, the day I met you.”

He didn’t miss the way Sherlock’s face flushed when he said that. He hid his smile behind another sip of coffee.

“Yeah, I forgot why I was sitting in the park, but I did and it was hard to get comfortable because of my limp…you know.”

The baby was now sat in Sherlock’s lap, mesmerized by a pigeon next to their bench. Sherlock’s eyes were glued to John now as he reminisced.

“I was even drinking coffee. Then Mike, don’t know why he was in the park either, saw me and asked me how I was.”

“You weren’t in a good place then.” Sherlock’s tone was low but careful. He let John speak, but wouldn’t press him to do more than he wanted.

“No I wasn’t. Anyway, I told him about my flat in London, and how I needed a new place to stay. He told me about…a friend…he knew that had the same concerns. I think you know how the rest goes.” The hint of amusement in his voice.

“Yes, I believe I do.” Sherlock couldn’t help the smile on his face. John turned to face him and rested a hand on his.

“I don’t think I’ve ever really told you, but, if anyone asks, that’s the best day of my life.”

Sherlock scoffed, “What, finding a flatmate?”

“No, you git. Meeting you was the best thing that’s happened to me. Even now, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me. I know that sometimes I don’t tell you, but I am now. Falling in love with the Sherlock Holmes was and still is the greatest thing to ever happen to one John Watson.”

Sherlock was grinning at John’s statement. What came next was the familiar sensation of tears forming in his eyes. He sniffled and hastily moved to wipe away the tears falling. John’s hand moved to his cheek, and helped him wipe some of the tears away.

“Well, you’ve always had a way with words, John.” He tried to make his voice steady, to take his mind off flat out bawling in the middle of the park. He gasped when he felt John’s lips kiss his salty wet cheek.

“I’m your blogger, aren’t I?”

Sherlock closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes, you are. You’re my blogger and so much more.”

John smirked and took another sip of his coffee. “Yeah.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock works his charm to get John to leave early from his job.

They spent the rest of John’s lunch break in the park. When John looked at his watch and said that he had to be heading back, Sherlock complained loudly about his short break. John only sighed and kissed him, telling him that they were sitting the park for nearly an hour and that he would see him in a few hours.

“What if we call and tell them that you got sick from the café and have to return home?”

“Sherlock…”

Sherlock huffed. “They are depriving me of precious John time!”

He got a kiss to the forehead for saying that. John rubbed his arm gently and said, “The bills gotta get paid, love. Don’t worry, I’ll be home soon okay? In the meantime, you and Rosie have a few more hours to do whatever you wish.”

“I wish to go home with you.”

“Maybe if you stay outside long enough, you can come pick me up after my shift is over.” John was joking. He took the last sip of his coffee before tossing the empty cup away. Sherlock failed to see the humor in it.

“That’s a brilliant idea! What do you think Rosie? The day is nice and I know you’ve been itching to be out of the flat.”

“Sherlock.”

“John.” He mocked.

John exhaled and gave up the argument. He just gave him a kiss to the cheek and the lips, and Rosie a kiss on the forehead.

“Right, just call me if you need anything, yeah?”

John couldn’t resist Sherlock’s puppy-dog face, and so he left the park before he would change his mind and go home early. Sherlock looked down at Rosie and set her next to him on the bench so that he could get the carrier out of the diaper bag. Once she was situated in it, he got up and began walking down the park lane, stopping to admire the dogs that were being walked, and watching a bee pollinate flowers.

“Look Rosie! Bees are amazing. Like John!”

“That dog reminds me of John, short, blond, affectionate, and simply stunning.”

He wasn’t sure when Rosie fell asleep, or how long he’d been walking, but he continued to talk quietly to himself regarding his surroundings. This was nice, it would be even better with John. He turned around and went back to the café to order another coffee and some cookies. He checked his phone. He had managed to kill two hours alone just strolling through the park with a sleeping baby. John would be out soon and then they would spend another quiet evening together. He wondered if John was bored. He unlocked the phone and took a picture of himself and Rosie. Her limbs were dangling as she slept on Sherlock’s chest. He sent the photo to John and continued drinking his coffee. Not even a minute later, John sent him a response.

_Aww, you tired her out that quickly? What did you do?  
                                                                                -JW_

_I took her for a walk in the park. I may have spent a little too long watching a bee pollinate a flowerbed.  
                                                                                                                                                            -SH_

_Are you sure it was only bees? I know you tend to stop for every dog you see.  
                                                                                                                  - JW_

_….  
-SH_

_Thought so  
                _

_You look cute in the photo. Consider it my new lockscreen. :)  
                                                                                          - JW_

_I love you.  
           -SH_

_I love you too. <3  
                         -JW_

Sherlock sent him another selfie of just him frowning. He added the crying emoji and the sad face, and then a bee for good measure. His phone vibrated and he smiled at John’s message.

_That’s a low blow, Sherlock.  
                                           - JW_

_Come home now and I’ll stop.  
                                              -SH _

_…_

_I’ll ask my boss if I can leave after I finish my last two appointments for the day. Is that okay? Are you nearby?  
                                                                                                                                                                  - JW_

_I’m at the café. I’ll wait here until you get an answer. Leave anyway even if it’s a no.  
                                                                                                                               -SH _

_You know I can’t do that. Let me ask right now.  
                                                                         -JW_

Sherlock set his phone down and rubbed Rosie’s back as she slept. He felt his phone vibrate and picked it up immediately.

_I got the okay. I’m coming now. :D  
                                                      - JW_

Sherlock sent the clapping and confetti emoji and set his phone down. He always liked it when he got his way.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock helps John unwind after he leaves work early.

“You’re a bad man, Sherlock.” John shook his head as he exited the clinic. They both waved to the receptionist and walked away. Sherlock wore a smug face.

“You didn’t have to listen to me John. You wanted to leave just as badly as I did.”

Sherlock’s cheek darkened at John’s loud laugh. “Alright, you got me there. Come on, I want to cook for you tonight. I don’t think I’ve returned that favor either.”

Sherlock licked his lips. “I suppose it’s been a while since I’ve had John’s famous risotto.”

 John smirked and hailed a cab

\-----

Sherlock wiped his mouth after placing his fork on the empty place. He looked up at John with fullness and love.

“That was better than I remember it.”

John took his last forkful and smiled. “Yeah well I wanted to make it extra special for you.”

“New ingredients?”

He stood from his chair and gathered both of their plates. He tossed them in the sink and opened a cupboard. There was a bottle of wine sitting there, much to Sherlock’s surprise.

“How long have you had that?” Shock and amusement laced Sherlock’s voice. John didn’t answer immediately. He grabbed the bottle and two glasses and took his seat.

“The day I went back to work. I wanted it to be a surprise for you and that being said, I needed a proper excuse with you deducing me and finding out my true intentions.”

Sherlock’s mouth hung open. Then, he smiled. “Clever boy.”

“Well, your clever boy got wine to suit his posh boy’s taste.”

“I see.”

John was too busy staring at Sherlock to open the bottle. Sherlock cleared his throat and John snapped out of his daze. “Right, sorry.” He opened the bottle and poured the glasses. Sherlock took a careful sip from his and closed his eyes.

“Either Mycroft helped you pick this out, or you have an eye for wine.”

“Actually, it’s the same bottle I bought years back. During that whole Irene Adler fiasco. I meant to share it with you but…you know.”

“I know what?” His brows were furrowed. John took another sip to gain the courage to tell him.

“I thought you loved her. The fifty-seven texts…the fact that she was in your bed…your reaction to her death…”

“John.” His tone was firm and John wondered if he ruined the night for them. He watched as Sherlock rose from his seat, grabbed the bottle, and with the softest face he could muster said, “Let’s have a bath. We’ll finish the bottle in there.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. John let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and nodded.

\----

“There, isn’t this much better?”

John sighed as he felt Sherlock rest his head against his wet chest. Sherlock set up the bubble bath for them. They were both laid back, John resting against the wall, and Sherlock on him. Sherlock closed his eyes and let the other card his fingers through the wet curls.

“Get the glasses, love. I want to finish them before I start washing your hair.”

Sherlock sat up and grabbed the two glasses filled half-way with wine. The bottle was nearly empty. Once they both had one, their arms entwined as they drank. Once their glasses held only one sip, John took them both and set them back down.

“Come love, turn around.”

Sherlock assumed his original position and moaned as John cupped water and let it fall on Sherlock’s hair. It was silent, aside from the sound of the water rippling from John’s movement. He was careful when detangling Sherlock’s hair before applying the shampoo. He knew how tender-headed he could be. When he applied the shampoo, Sherlock gasped. He could hear John’s chuckle.

“Feels good?”

“Your fingers are magical, John.”

“Thank you.”

They didn’t know how long they were in the tub, Rosie, exhausted from her time in the park with Sherlock, didn’t cry, signaling their time bathing. Every so often, John would stop washing Sherlock’s hair, and would kiss him and tell him how beautiful he was. He will never get over how gorgeous Sherlock looked when he blushed.

“Still regret leaving work early?”

John snorted.

“If it’s for you, _never_.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John settles Sherlock's nerves after he as a nightmare.

What came after their bath was a hazy recollection of kisses that tasted like wine, interrupted by the giggles that escaped the tipsy men. Then it gave way to clothes being shed, limbs being tangled, and John telling himself that he never wanted to be without Sherlock again as he listened to his love’s moans and watched his face flush from pure ecstasy as he rode him slowly, gently, and told him how beautiful he was as they both came together.

When he opened his eyes, it was still dark. Rosie still was not awake? What exactly did Sherlock do to get her to sleep. He should go wake her, she needed to be changed and fed. He rolled over and winced, his uninjured shoulder ached from Sherlock’s nails digging into his skin. He closed his eyes and smiled, hearing the way Sherlock said his name, he was begging, pleading for John. His eyes opened and lingered to said man. He was lying on his stomach, neck covered in love-bites, arse exposed. The only thing that was covered from the sheet was a small part of his leg. John bit his lip in arousal, he looked so good. Slowly he leant forward and peppered kisses all over Sherlock’s back, pausing whenever the man stirred. He propped himself up on his shoulder, wanting to take in all of his lover, his boyfriend. The moonlight shone on him perfectly, as if he were walking art.

Sherlock groaned and stirred again. John’s brows furrowed at Sherlock’s distressed face. When Sherlock didn’t stop moving, and his stirring changed into thrashing, he knew that he was suffering. He was having a nightmare.

Sherlock was crying the word “no” and shaking his head, his limbs were flailing as if to protect himself from an invisible entity. His low whimpering turned into screaming. He was shouting “get away” “leave me alone” and John’s heart broke when he saw the tears streaming down his face as he screamed for help. John went to hold him when Sherlock started screaming his name, voice dripping with agony. John wondered if it had something to do with the scars on his back. He didn’t want to ask because Sherlock never interrogated him on the state of his wounds, he made it a point to love him for all of his scars, and John would do the same whether he knew the story or not.

“John!” Sherlock shouted, his voice going hoarse from the constant yells.

“Sherlock…. shh, hey, hey love, it’s alright, I got you. I have you.” He pulled Sherlock into an embrace and kissed his head gently, ignoring the pain of the man punching his chest and stomach with all his might. The tears hit the side of his neck in large, hot drops. What happened to him? Who hurt him to this extent? What was he saying? He was probably having a nightmare about him. John had been far from innocent. His fingers ran up and down the jagged back, passing over the rough spots that were his scars.

“Let me go!” His eyes were still closed and John only held him tighter. “It’s me Sherl, it’s me. It’s John.”

Sherlock’s sobs made his own eyes tear. The pain being wrenched from him, so raw, so vulnerable. What could he do to soothe him? He didn’t stop kissing him, even if they weren’t working. He didn’t stop rocking him side-to-side to calm his nerves. He didn’t think about how they went from the sweet sex they had to this.

“Sherlock, you’re alright…you’re okay…” Sherlock only bawled into his shoulders, still fighting back. John didn’t know what else to do; how could he tell Sherlock that he was only dreaming? That if he opened his eyes, everything was going to be okay?

There was one thing that he could try, it would be no different than the nights Sherlock played the violin to soothe him back to sleep when he first moved in. Anything to stop his love from crying.

 _“It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside…I’m not one of those who can…easily hide…”_ He began to sing lowly, his voice cracking from the tears begging to fall. His mouth was next to Sherlock’s ear, he needn’t worry about singing over his wails.

 _“I don’t have much money…. but boy if I did…I’d buy a big house where we’d both could live…”_ And wasn’t it true? If he could make all the money in the world, he would make sure that Sherlock would live the posh boy life he denies for John’s sake.

 _“If I was a sculptor, but then again…no, or a man who makes potions in a traveling show…”_ Sherlock’s screams were beginning to die down. John took a deep breath to keep singing the song.

_“Oh, I know it’s not much but… it’s the best I can do…. My gift is my song and this one’s for you…”_

He kept rocking Sherlock and stroking his messy curls, hearing the sobs coming from his Sherlock and he willed himself to keep singing. He wanted Sherlock to be okay.

_“…And you can tell everybody, this is your song…it may be quite simple but, now that’s it done…_

_I hope you don’t mind…. I hope you don’t mind…. that I put down in words…. how wonderful life is now you’re in the world….”_

He let the tear fall from his cheek as he breathed out the chorus. God how true every word is. He loved Sherlock more than he loved himself sometimes. Since the moment they met, since the first time he met the madman whipping the corpse, he knew that there would never be anyone else for him.

_“I sat on the roof, and kicked up the moss, well, a few of the verses, well, they got me quite cross…but the sun’s been quite kind…while I wrote this song…it’s for people like you that keep it turned on…”_

People like Sherlock, the geniuses that’ve been outcasted, exploited, ignored. Used until he’s no longer useful and then treated as if he’s less than a human. He kissed him again, his screams have stopped and now he’s only crying softly onto his chest, his hands clutching at John as if he too were a figment of his imagination only created to torture him.

_“So, excuse me forgetting…but these things I do…. you see I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue… Anyway the thing is, what I really mean…. those are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen….”_

Sometimes they were green, sometimes they were crystal clear. His eyes were what made him so unique, so devastatingly gorgeous. Just like him they were an enigma. John pressed a kiss to both eyes that were wet with salty tears. He wanted to wipe his pain away.

_“And you can tell everybody…. this is your song… it may be quite simple but now that it’s done…._

_I hope you don’t mind…I don’t you hope mind…that I put down in words…._

_How wonderful life is now you’re in the world….”_

His crying turned into whimpers and he nuzzled his face into John’s neck. John smiled sadly and kissed him wherever his mouth could reach. The song was nearly over, he wanted Sherlock to hear him sing, to remember what happened and where they were.

_“I hope you don’t mind…I hope you don’t mind…that I put down in words…”_

“John…” Sherlock’s weak, raspy voice said. He was awake. He remembered. John placed a hand on the back of his head and let more silent tears fall as he whispered, _“How wonderful life is now you’re in the world….”_

“I love you, Sherlock.” John said, feeling the thin body shaking in his arms. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. I’ll wait, I love you, okay?”

It was alright that Sherlock didn’t answer, his squeezing John’s shoulders was enough of a response. He was okay, he was okay…

As he covered Sherlock in kisses, Rosie’s cries could be heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I LOVE Sir Elton John, and of course I'll never miss an opportunity to use my absolute favorite song "Your Song" for one of my OTPs. 
> 
> Here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTa8U0Wa0q8
> 
> Please leave kudos/comments/subscribe!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Sherlock's nightmare.

“Come on Sherlock, up you get. Rosie’s crying.”

Sherlock was sniffling heavily, John thought he was bordering the edge of an anxiety attack. He lifted the covers off himself and whimpered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake her, John…”

John placed a hand on his cheek and shook his head. “Shh, none of that now love. This is not your fault, okay? She’s just hungry.”

Sherlock’s cheeks were flushed and covered in tear tracks, his eyes were red and puffy from the sheer force of them. He wiped at his nose as he stared into John’s eyes. John kissed the tip of his nose, his salty cheeks, and then his quivering lips. He stood up and watched Sherlock grab his blue housecoat. John just remembered that they were both stark naked still. He hastily threw on a white t-shirt, and some boxers and then walked to Rosie’s room, wondering if Sherlock was following behind him. He saw Rosie sitting up bawling her eyes out. He sighed, another person unhappy tonight. He picked her up and rubbed her back, whispering “hush” until her cries died down.

When he went into the kitchen, he found Sherlock testing the milk. He saw John approach with her and handed him the bottle.

“Thank you, love.”

Sherlock didn’t respond, and John wanted to comment, but the baby had his hands tied. Sherlock shoved his hands in his pocket and leant against the counter as Rosie ate. John smiled softly at her as she gulped down the milk. She finished faster than he had expected, and wondered if he should have another bottle prepared in case. She burped and was instantly better. John’s eyes fell on Sherlock, who wasn’t looking at them. His head was down and bit his lips. He looked as if he were holding back more tears. John walked over to him and offered Rosie, who began smiling when her eyes met Sherlock’s.

“I think she would like to help you feel better.”

Sherlock shook his head. John frowned.

“Sherlock, look at her, she absolutely adores you. I know you won’t hurt her.”

“I hit you, didn’t I?”

“What?”

Sherlock looks angry, but not with John. “Don’t…I hit you. I saw the bruises when we were getting dressed.”

“Well you were hardly awake, you were scared, and it was my fault for grabbing you while you were thrashing about.”

Sherlock crossed his arms. “So, are we going to pretend this didn’t happen? That I didn’t scream the whole house awake?”

“No, we’re not going to pretend it didn’t happen. What we’re going to do, what I’m going to do, is gave you some space and wait for you to tell me what happened. Same as you do for me.”

Sherlock scoffed. “I don’t deserve your patience.”

“If we’re going to talk about what the other deserves then I am positive that I don’t deserve you. And that’s not what you think, is it?”

Sherlock sighed. John kissed his cheek.

“I thought so. I love you, Sherlock. You know that right?”

“I know, John.” His mouth tugged into a small smile.

“I don’t ever want you to forget okay? Now, what would you like to do? We can watch something, or we can just lie in bed, it’s all up to you.”

“Do we still have the ice cream?”

John smiled in return. “Yeah.”

“We can stay up, until Rosie falls back to sleep. You can show me some movies I’ve never seen if you want.”

“You’ve ever seen Star Wars?”

Sherlock shook his head and John got excited. “Well then, I believe it’s a date.”

John passed Rosie off to him and got the ice-cream from the freezer and two spoons. When they got settled on the couch, Sherlock took a spoonful of the ice-cream and sighed when the chocolate hit his tastebuds. John chuckled and took his own helping of the dessert. It was a few minutes into the movie when Sherlock said, “I’m…not ready to talk about it…but it’s pleasant to know that I have someone to talk to.”

John had the spoon his mouth when Sherlock said that. He swallowed the ice-cream and grabbed Sherlock’s hand.

“Set the pace, love, and that’s how fast we’ll go.”

“Thank you.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have a heart-to-heart

John knew that Sherlock wouldn’t be magically healed after ice cream and a movie. He knew that better than anybody. That’s why when Sherlock turned away from John in bed, he didn’t get mad, he wasn’t offended, he didn’t ask him questions. He just kissed the back of his head and told him that he would sleep facing his back, just in case Sherlock wanted to cuddle. He didn’t expect Sherlock to respond to him, so when he heard a soft, “Thank you”, he smiled.

John told himself he wasn’t going to push Sherlock. He meant every word when he told Sherlock to set the pace. He was glad that Sherlock understood.

The morning after, the living room was oddly quiet. The television was playing Rosie’s favorite show, she was sat in front of her tower of blocks and watched with wide, curious eyes. Sherlock was huddled on the sofa, his face lacked the usual horror when watching the Teletubbies. John frowned. He was staring at his love while tucking his shirt in. Sherlock’s face was somber, the corners of his mouth sagged, his eyes looked heavy and colored with the dark rings underneath. He hated to see Sherlock so defeated, so tired.

So sad.

“Are we on for lunch today?”

Sherlock blinked and turned to face him.

“Oh, lunch.”

John’s voice was careful, but he repeated himself. “Are we on for lunch today, love?”

He didn’t miss the way Sherlock’s eyes closed and his body flinched at being called love. He swallowed and clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Well, I’m off now. Call me if you need anything, yeah?”

The grunt was Sherlock’s response.

“Sherlock, I mean it.” His voice a little firmer.

“I know, John.” Sherlock’s voice was shaky but there was the underlying appreciation that made John feel a little better. He took a step forward and knelt to give Sherlock a kiss on his curls.

“I love you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s mouth formed a tiny smile. “I love you too, John.”

John left feeling a little uneasy.

\---------  


John drummed his fingers on the desk. Sherlock didn’t show up to the office for lunch. John headed out and grabbed a cup of tea with a pastry and ate with butterflies in his stomach. He fished his phone out of his pocket and called Sherlock. The phone rang three times before Sherlock picked up.

“John?”

“Sherlock.” He breathed out.

“What’s wrong.”

“You didn’t show up for lunch.”

There was silence for a long time before Sherlock spoke. John bit his thumbnail.

“Oh, oh no. John, I’m so sorry I forgot! Rosie took a nap and I joined her, I should have set an….”

“Sherlock, Sherlock, it’s alright love. I didn’t mean to make it sound as if I’m blaming you. I’ll see you for dinner, okay? What would you like?”

“I don’t know. I would very much like for you to be home.”

John sighed. “Sherlock, you know that I can’t make a habit out of this…”

“I know.”

Whatever John wanted to say to him was forgotten. He sat with his phone to his ear, listening to the monotonous baritone of his voice. Ruminating on the fact that Sherlock said he napped with Rosie. Sherlock never naps. At least, not when he’s happy.

“I’ll see you soon, love. How’s Rosie?”

“She’s quiet. I fear she might still be a bit tired from last night.”

“When was the nap?”

“Little over an hour before you called.”

“Try and see if you can put her down for another nap.”

“I might fall asleep too.” His voice got small and apprehensive, like he expected John to get upset.

“It’s alright love, you can sleep too. By the time you both wake, I’ll be home. So, it works out for all of us.”

He exhaled when he heard Sherlock’s short chuckle. They say their goodbyes and John attempts to distract himself with the mountain of paperwork and patients that enter his office.

\-------

When he gets home, Sherlock is fast asleep on the couch with Rosie tightly held in his arms. He carefully pulls her out of his arms, and puts her in her crib. When he returns, Sherlock is still laid out on the sofa, chest heaving slowly and mouth parted slightly, the low snores here and there. John would have taken a picture of him because he looked so adorable. But this wasn’t something that he normally did. John bent down and nudged him softly so he wouldn’t be startled.

“Sherlock, Sherlock, hey.”

Sherlock moaned and opened one eye. His face softened at the sight of John.

“I’m sorry John, I tried not to fall asleep again, but I’ve been so tired.”

“Come to bed with me. We’ll have an early night.”

“No dinner? I don’t want to ruin your night, John.”

“Hey, if my night were ever ruined, it will never be because of you, okay?”

Sherlock rubbed at his eyes and nodded. John didn’t want him to blame himself. Sherlock never blamed him when he was like this, not even when they barely knew each other. He helped his love off the couch and walked him into the bedroom. Sherlock sunk to the bed while John took his time removing his work clothes. He climbed in the bed in nothing but a t-shirt and his underwear. He turned the light off and felt the familiar tickling of Sherlock’s curls under his nose, and his breath against his neck.

“When you get hungry, we’ll wake up and we’ll eat.”

Sherlock sighed. John let some time pass, he knew that Sherlock wasn’t sleeping.

“Sherlock. You know, before I met you, I…I told myself every day that I didn’t like men. I only loved women because that’s who men were supposed to love. My father, the bastard, when he found out that Harry had a girlfriend, he all but disowned her. My mum…she tried to protect us, but my dad was a terrifying man when he drank. Whenever he hurt Harriet, spewed hate towards her, I was telling myself to never let him see that I liked men too. I like both men and women. For years…” John’s breath hitched as the tears pooled in his eyes, “For years, every time I saw a bloke I liked, I told myself that I wasn’t gay, that I didn’t like men and the...hatred I felt for myself was unbearable.

But then…you walked into my life and, Sherlock you _freed_ me. I fell so hopelessly in love with you I couldn’t stand it. And there was that nagging voice in the back of my head that told me that you didn’t like men, you didn’t believe in romance. That you didn’t feel things that way. Then we met Irene Adler and I thought…’It’s not that he didn’t feel love, he just didn’t feel love for you…’ but I still wanted you. I woke up every day after you jumped, and told myself that I was in a nightmare. That you were in the kitchen working on your experiments, or watching telly.”

John took a breath; his voice was cracking and he was sure that Sherlock felt the hot tears dropping onto his shoulder. Sherlock hadn’t moved once since he started talking. Maybe he had fallen asleep after all, maybe not a word of this was heard.

“Sherlock Holmes, I **_love_** you. I want you to understand the depths to which I love you. I’ll love you when you’re happy, I’ll love you when you’re sad. I’ll love you even when you think I don’t, and I hope you don’t believe that. I know that you’re hurting right now, and I promise I’ll let you sleep in a moment, but please… _please_ hear me when I say that we will get through this together. It’s like you always tell me, it’s just the two of us against the world, and love, truer words have never been spoken.”

He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, feeling relieved that he finally said that. He had wanted to say that to him ever since the first night Sherlock spent with him and told him that he made him a good man. John tried to keep his crying as quiet as possible in case Sherlock truly was asleep, but Sherlock’s burst of sobs ruined that. They laid in bed, holding each other, sobbing, and whispering “I love you” and other words of motivation and adoration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me guys, I'm trying to update as much as I can! Thank you for reading and please comment, kudos, and subscribe!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John calls out from work to help Sherlock heal.

Sherlock slept for the rest of the night. John woke up to the sound of his daughter crying, his new alarm clock. His eyes were crusty from the unwiped tears he shed with Sherlock. God, he never thought that he would be able to say all of that to Sherlock. Those words wrapped around his throat and choked him each time the thought popped in his mind. He meant every word of it, every tear. It was Sherlock who never judged him for wanting physical attention. It was Sherlock who let him wear his jumpers without calling him any names other than “Gorgeous” “Dashing” “Clever”. It was Sherlock who lets him cry without calling him a sissy, who lets him be as soft and gentle as his heart always wished to be.

Sherlock slept through breakfast.

John phoned his job and told him that he was going to be attending to a patient, and wouldn’t be coming in. He felt that they didn’t deserve to know about Sherlock’s personal problems. The media already had a field day with him when he jumped. John felt sick to think about all those news articles that called his Sherlock, his love a “fraud” “phony” “fake”, and demean him and destroy all that he worked hard to prove.

He fed Rosie and himself. He put a plate away for Sherlock, but he had a feeling that all Sherlock would want is biscuits and tea.

He flipped through the channels. Rosie had been quiet lately. He frowned, she was usually happier than this. He googles “Can babies feel their parents’ emotions?” and apparently, they can. He kisses her head and looks toward their bedroom. Sherlock was still asleep.

When he does wake up, it’s nearly eleven. He comes out of the room, hair poking out all over the place, yawning, rubbing his puffy eyes. When he looks at John and Rosie, he frowns and his shoulders sag.

“What’s for breakfast?”

“I made a bit of beans and…”

Sherlock looks uninterested.

“I can make some tea for you. And we still have biscuits.”

Sherlock’s lip quivers and he almost whispers, “I’m sorry.”

John rises with the baby in his arms and walks over to Sherlock. He kisses him and smiles to reassure him. “It’s alright, I’m not mad at you. We’ll take this slow.”

John tries to hide his disappointment when Sherlock only eats two and a half biscuits out of the five on his plate, and drinks four sips of his now cold tea. He kisses him again and tells him that he’s here for him, and asked if he wanted to go back to bed. Sherlock shook his head and said that he wanted to lie on the couch with him and the baby. It was a tight fit, but they made it work. Sherlock was holding Rosie while resting on his side between John’s legs. John was stroking his curls softly and whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

Sherlock apologizes for sleeping in again. John tells him, “When we first moved in, you let me sleep in, you let me eat biscuits and tea instead of a whole meal. You let me get better again without pushing me to do everything all at once. That’s how I want you to feel. When you want help, I’ll help you. When you want to be alone, I’ll give you space. We’re a team and I love you.”

He hears Sherlock sniffle and say, “I don’t deserve you.”

He pulls Sherlock in as much as he can for a hug and whispers, “Neither do I.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock notices a few things about John.

Sherlock was upset. Sad. He couldn’t stop thinking about his time away from London, when everyone thought he was dead and he wished at times that it was true. He thought he could keep it to himself, without bothering John or Rosie, but he was wrong. He made them uncomfortable, and now he was making John worry even though he told himself not to. He’s just been so tired, his appetite was nonexistent, and even moving made his bones ache.

He just didn’t want to exist.

But John loved him. John wanted him to keep existing, and what those two years John thought otherwise did to him. He didn’t want his John to hurt anymore.

Because he fell in love with somebody as worthless as Sherlock Holmes.

And because said worthless person fell in love with him.

Still, even though Sherlock didn’t move much lately, and missed nearly all their lunch dates, he still managed to keep a steady and watchful eye over John.

One day, John came home from work with a bouquet of flowers. Sherlock watched with tired eyes the way his lover was so gentle with the flowers, and how he walked over to Sherlock with a warm smile on his face.

“Love look, I saw these while I was coming home. Aren’t they wonderful?”

Sherlock’s mouth tugged painfully into a smile. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard John talk about something other than him with such a happy tone. He did ask Sherlock about the flowers, but his eyes never left the variety of plants. Sherlock’s heart warmed to see John allow himself to be this vulnerable. He was always vigilant, always alert. He liked this side of John.

The softness of his partner, his love.

John showed the flowers to Rosie. “Look Rosie, they are magnificent, aren’t they?”

He placed them in a vase and stepped back to admire them.

“I bought them for you, love. I thought, if maybe there was just a bit more color in this flat you’d…maybe you’d cheer up.”

John kicked his foot.

“I don’t like seeing you like this, love. It’s not your fault, I know.”

He bent down and kissed the dry lips. Sherlock hated the way John looked so tired. It was all because of him. He kissed the tip of his nose and rested his head on the seat of the cushion.

“Takeaway?”

Sherlock shook his head. It made him sick just to think about eating his favorite Chinese meal. John tsked.

“What about something homemade. Soup?”

Sherlock didn’t respond. His eyebrows burrowed and John said, “Chicken and rice.”

Sherlock couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt. His eyes watered and he said, “I’m afraid I won’t eat very much.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to finish it, but it would make me feel better to know that you have something in your stomach other than tea and biscuits.”

Sherlock feared that if he opened his mouth, then he would start bawling and John didn’t deserve that. John only smiled and pushed back the curls on his forehead.

“And then, if you’re feeling up to it and Rosie stays asleep, I could give you a bath, and your hair a good wash. Is that okay?”

Sherlock’s lips quivered and he nodded. He almost lost his resolve when John kissed his nose again and got up to walk over to the kitchen. Sherlock tilted his head and saw the love of his life hum softly as he gathered the pots and utensils to cook their dinner. His eyes wandered over to the vase of flowers.

John was right.

They did liven the flat up.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys elevate from lovers to boyfriends!

Both men were sitting on the bed, both still wet from their bath. Sherlock’s curls still dripped with water and John wanted to tell him to dry it so his pillow wouldn’t be wet, but from the way Sherlock looked, scolding him seemed inappropriate.

“Are you tired?”

Sherlock looked up with glassy blue eyes. He shrugged. “I’m not sure, I feel like I am.”

“Lie down then. It’s getting late anyway.”

“Do you have work tomorrow?”

John shook his head. He knew that he was going to try to convince him to stay home again, it was a miracle that he was still employed at the clinic.

“Yeah but I have a later shift, it’s my payment for staying home again. Why, do you want me to stay home again? I can call and have my hours switched back to my old ones. It’s only for a day, at least.”

Sherlock looked like he wanted to ask him to stay again, but if he thought it, he never said it. He only nodded.

“No, go to work. I’m sorry if I’ve been getting you into trouble, I’ve been doing that a lot, haven’t I?”

John’s brows furrowed, he rested a hand on Sherlock’s arm.

“What are you on about, love?”

Sherlock shut his eyes and turned away, he would have moved his whole body if John wasn’t holding onto his arm. It wasn’t firm, and he could have easily shrugged him off, but John didn’t comment on it.

“John I realize…that my mood has become quite low recently.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m trying to help you as I know how, as your doctor and your lover. I know you Sherlock Holmes, and I know that you don’t like to feel this way anymore than I like seeing you like this. Do you want to tell me the reason why now? Remember, don’t do anything that you aren’t ready to okay?”

“John, I am not your patient,” Sherlock spat, “I know what you are to me, and I want you to treat me like the lover you claim me to be.”

John paused, and he removed his hand and placed it in his lap. “Okay, you and me. Let’s talk.”

The irritation in Sherlock’s face dissipated and he lost whatever nerve caused him to get this far. John was rubbing his bare thigh now. It was so soft, and wet, and he smiled at the way Sherlock’s muscles loosened and his body slowly lost his tension at the simple touch.

“First, I would like to know…do you only want to be lovers with me?”

“What do you mean, Sherlock?”

Sherlock sounded scared and John knew that the next words that came out of his mouth would only worsen his mood or heighten it. He wanted to see Sherlock smiling again. He was so gorgeous when that crooked grin graced his plush lips.

“We’ve been…together…. for weeks now John. How long do lovers usually last?”

John opened his mouth to answer, but then realized that he didn’t know how to respond to that.

“…I only call you a lover because I’m not sure if _you_ wanted to continue this. If you really wanted to be with me, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked at him like he was the most idiotic man on earth. “Why on earth would you think I wouldn’t want to be with you, John? I love you more than words…happiness is only synonymous with you, my dear John.”

John’s breath hitched in his throat, and he could hear his heart pounding against his chest. To have Sherlock say that to him, him of all people! It was an honor that no army medal could compare.

“I love you too Sherlock Holmes. I have been entirely at your whim since Barts, and it amazes me every day to see how much deeper I fall for you.”

He noticed Sherlock’s tears, and moved in to kiss the salty lips. Their tongues exploring the other’s mouth, soft moans are made, they don’t part until their bodies crave oxygen. They panted and John moved in to kiss Sherlock’s lips again.

“Sherlock, love, it would be the highest honor to be called your boyfriend. That is…if you feel the same?”

There it was. That smile that he had missed so dearly.

“John I have wanted you to call me that since we met. I will gladly be your boyfriend.”

They pressed soft kisses to every part of the other’s face and whispered the word “finally” until they fell asleep.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys predict what Rosie's first word is going to be

Sherlock’s doing better today. John thought as they lay in bed. John had no work, and Sherlock decided that the three of them should have a day in bed.

He’s smiling and talking a lot more. Still should work on that appetite.

He looked down and saw Sherlock’s long fingers wrapped delicately around his smaller hand. Sherlock was lying on his side, Rosie in between the two men, babbling away with Sherlock occasionally responding.

“I think our Rosie is going to say her first word soon.”

“Oh?”

“She’s talking at an accelerated rate, and most times I think I hear her try to enunciate words.”

“Do you think her first word will be dad? Or da?”

Sherlock smiled and nuzzled his nose onto her cheek.

“I believe that she is brilliant and extraordinary. Maybe her first word will be genius.”

“Or what if it’s one of our names?”

“I don’t think her mouth can handle such a long name like mine.”

“Oh Sherlock, I think your name is beautiful, surely she thinks the same.”

“Maybe your name will be the first. It is only one syllable and I am sure that I’ve said it countless times around her.”

“And do I not constantly shout your name?”

Sherlock blushed. John smirked. What a gutter mind.

“But you tend to mix it up, you call me ‘bee’ sometimes, ‘love’ is your favorite term of endearment for me. And ‘honey’ when you’re so inclined.”

John turned his head to face Sherlock’s. There was something that made his boyfriend so tender, the white pillow that he was resting on, the sun shining right on his pale skin, illuminating him into what John liked to think, a work of art.

“You don’t really have any terms for me.” He fake pouted.

“I do, I call you ‘my dear’ but I love your name so much, that I consider it a term of endearment on its own. Hearing your name, to me, is like winning the lottery, or cracking that unsolvable case, your name reminds me that I’m not alone, and that someone loves me, and that it’s okay to be loved and wanted.”

John’s mouth hung open.

“Sherlock…”

“When I had my bad days recently, you were there for me. You brought me flowers, you made me food. Everybody else would have given up on me.”

“Well, I’m not everybody.”

Sherlock let out a breath of laughter.

“No, you’re not. You’re _John,_ and my dear John at that.”

It was John’s turn to laugh. He placed a kiss on Sherlock’s forehead and sighed, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm sorry this update took so long! I've been pretty busy with school, but I should start updating pretty regularly again. Thanks so much for your patience! 
> 
> Also , I wanted to have a few chapters that are primarily them talking, because I think that's my favorite thing to write about them is their conversations.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys fight over Rosie Duty again

“Sherl….”

John’s arm was draped over his eyes and he was met with soft snoring.

“Sherlock….”

Nothing.

“Love!” His voice raised a bit, his words heavy with sleep.

“What?” His boyfriend whined.

“Your turn.”

“But I already went!”

“Love, I have work in the morning.”

Sherlock let out another groan. John sighed and rolled over. He pressed kisses along Sherlock’s neck and nuzzled his cheek against his.

“Please?”

Sherlock didn’t respond. John kissed him again.

“Sherlock please?”

He smiled as he felt Sherlock roll over. He pressed a kiss to his lips.

“You owe me two nappy changes, you understand?”

John deepened the kiss the second time and said, “I owe you more than that, love.”

The bed dipped as Sherlock got up, muttering to himself grumpily. John let out a sigh and went back to sleep, being lulled by the distant sounds of Sherlock shushing Rosie and whispering soothing words to stop her crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, the next chapter will have a bit more detail to it, I was just testing this out. The next chapter will also be fluffy, with a dash of angst! 
> 
> Thank you for your patience and I hope you keep reading and enjoying what I have to offer! 
> 
> Follow me at [johnlockerooni ](http://johnlockerooni.tumblr.com/)on tumblr!


	27. Chapter 27

The idea came to his head while he was at work. Sherlock didn’t come by to have lunch with him because Rosie was already down for her afternoon nap, and neither of the men wanted to risk her sleep cycle being interrupted, and in turn ruining theirs at night. Still, John couldn’t help but stare at the door, thinking about eating with Sherlock again. He came with Rosie because she couldn’t be alone, obviously, but he wanted to be greedy with Sherlock, and to take him out properly instead of movie nights in with a crying baby. He knew that Sherlock was being kind, but he was sure that even Sherlock thought about a night for themselves, one that didn’t involve just sex and then sleep. Well, that could be included in the night, but that shouldn’t be the only time they get to be alone together.

He waited until his patient left the room to call Mrs. Hudson. She answered after two rings, and told him that she was just about to ring her sister. He smiles, they chat for a bit, bring the other up to speed about their lives. She asked about Sherlock with the hesitation of a worried mother, to which he smiled warmly and told her all about their change in relationship. She was positively giddy then, shouting about how she knew it and that it was only a matter of time. John had to stop the conversation when she started inquiring about their sex life, however. He asked her if she would be available to watch Rosie for a bit while they went out. She agreed and expressed her longing to see the baby again.

From that moment on, John kept checking his watch, and counting down until he could go home to tell Sherlock the good news.

The moment he stepped through the door, he showered Sherlock in kisses.

“Let’s go out.” He said in between the kisses to the lips. Sherlock looked confused.

“Go out?”

“Let’s get dinner love, what have you eaten today?”

“Whatever Rosie didn’t finish.” Sherlock groaned. John couldn’t help but laugh at Sherlock’s transition into the stay-at-home dad. He kissed him again and then went to get his Belstaff off the hook.

“Me and you, let’s go to Angelo’s for dinner.”

“What about Rosie?”

John grabbed Sherlock’s face. “Mrs. Hudson is on her way, when she gets here, we can leave.”

Sherlock stared into John’s eyes before he asked, “What prompted this?”

John grinned and pecked his cheek. “I wanted to have a proper date with you. I feel badly that our closest time to a date was when we watched movies together.”

Sherlock’s brows furrowed, “But I liked the movie nights, not to mention that recently they almost always end with us having…”

“Love! Jesus, I want to take you out, okay? I want to spoil you, and treat you like a proper boyfriend. Please let me do this for you?”

Sherlock looked like he had more questions, but he relented at the sight of John’s pleading face, reminding him so much of a puppy. He smiled softly and nodded.

“You don’t have to do this, but alright, John.”

John looked like the happiest man in the world. He kissed Sherlock once more and let him go to gather his things and assemble food and items for Rosie when Mrs. Hudson arrives.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys enjoy a well-deserved night out

Angelo’s was more crowded than the first time they went all those years ago. When John was still haunted by the war and enchanted by the handsome detective. When he was the only one who ate, and asked Sherlock if he had a boyfriend. He smiled as he thought about his reaction to Sherlock’s answer. He was single, he was available, he could be his! And then, Sherlock ran off with the killer taxi driver.

He hadn’t realized that Sherlock finished talking about his day, he didn’t even hear his name being called the first few times. It was only when a gentle hand was placed on his, and his boyfriend staring at him with soft eyes that he was snapped back to reality.

“Are you alright?” Sherlock asked sincerely.

He blinked twice and nodded.

“Yes, yes of course. Are you?”

Sherlock’s cheeks tinged red and his hand settled back on his lap. It wasn’t easy to make him bashful, but John always found it lightened his mood to see Sherlock care enough to become shy.

“I suppose I am a bit nervous.”

“Why? Is it too many people?”

He watched as Sherlock turn, his long neck elongating and filling him with the desire to kiss that long slender neck, and his jaw, and other areas. Sherlock’s smile was small, and whatever was on his mind prevented him from looking John in the eyes.

“That is…part of it. You know, we didn’t have to eat here. If there’s too many people we can leave.”

John’s brows furrowed. “Funny, that’s what I should be saying to you.”

Sherlock chuckled and shook his head. “I’m fully aware that we are…dating now, and what being a couple means. But we’ve only ever acted as such privately, or when there was very few people around. I am sure that some of these customers know of me, of us, and I would understand entirely if you do not want to be seen on a romantic dinner with me.”

John sat back in his chair. His eyes wide like Sherlock punched him in the face. It was true, they were very intimate behind closed doors, but that’s only because they had to take care of Rosie, and had not had much time to go anywhere with each other. Had Sherlock misread this entire date? Or was this more of his self-consciousness triggered by all the years of loneliness and ridicule that he faced before John? The blond thinks the latter.

“S-Sherlock, love, how could you possibly think that I don’t want to be seen in public with you?”

It was Sherlock’s turn to look at him like an idiot. “What do you mean? I know what others think of me, and I know that the public thinks you a much better person than me. They would think that I brainwashed you, or manipulated, or even forced you into a relationship! I don’t want you to be judged because you are with the likes of me. If you want to get up and leave right now, I will not hold it against you and go wherever else you want to.”

John could not believe the words that came out of Sherlock’s mouth. He was angry that people treated the love of his life so poorly that he thinks that being seen with him romantically is an embarrassment, or a punishment. He is so ready to hear John agree with him, for them both to leave all for John’s sake, and this imaginary thought that he was thinking along those lines. Instead of hounding Sherlock with his bubbling anger, he only smiled and placed his open hands on the table to receive his love’s.

“Sherlock, Sherlock please don’t think of yourself so lowly. This is the first place we went together, this is the place where I was sure I was in love with you. Do you remember how we were when we first met? How I was little more than a lonely, nightmare-riddled, crippled, washed-up soldier and you were this man who I thought completely mad, and I still do, but who refused to let me think I was anything less than useful? You brought us here because you noticed how thin I was, and you covered it up by saying that we were looking for a cab driver. I should have seen it then but I didn’t.”

Sherlock’s eyes met his with such shocking intensity, John nearly forgot his train of thought.

“Love, you were the nicest person to me since I left the army, everybody pitied me, led me to think I was worth nothing but sympathy because I got hurt. You wanted me to help, you made me feel like I was the most important person to you, even though we barely knew each other. Sherlock, you saved my life.”

John hadn’t meant for all of that to come pouring out, but he hated to see Sherlock think so lowly of himself when he was of the highest importance to him. He wished that he was with Sherlock when he was a child, that they became friends in primary. He wished in that moment that he could shield Sherlock from all the bullies and haters that made him feel like he was anything less than the extraordinary man sitting across from him.

Even now, he wanted to reach across and kiss the stray teardrops from his high cheekbones and tell him that he will always be the most important person to him, and if the other diners had an issue, they could eat elsewhere. Sherlock was laughing now and it made John’s heart burst to see him so happy and so comfortable. He was secretly glad that he was the only person that made him feel this way.

“I love you, you know, that right? I couldn’t care any less whether these people agree or not, you’re my love, my Sherlock, and I will not let anything take you away from me again.”

Sherlock wiped away his tears and nodded furiously, chuckling with a smile so wide his eyes were nearly closed. He placed his hands in John’s and kept nodding.

“I know John, I love you too, from the moment you introduced yourself at Bart’s I knew. Thank you for finding me worth your time, and for loving me.”

“What kind of man would I be if I passed you up?”

Sherlock’s smile grew smaller at the question. “You would be an idiot.”

“Of the highest stupidity.”

John wanted to hear Sherlock laugh all the time. He wanted to see him this happy for the rest of their lives, he’ll make it his mission to make up for all the time Sherlock has felt sad and lonely and pining for a love he never thought he could have.

“Sherlock! John! Long time no see!” Angelo was holding two menus in his hand and grinning down at the two men. “What’ll it be tonight?”

John looked up at him and smirked

“You can start with a candle for the table.”

Sherlock’s eyes flicked over to John, and then back up to Angelo.

“I hear it’s more romantic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last lines of the chapter, where John asks for the candle, is a callback to ASIP! It's the scene where Angelo takes their order. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks again for reading! 
> 
> Please comment/kudos/subscribe!


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys find their way back to Baker Street

The rest of the evening was spent with Sherlock and John enjoying each other’s presence, and there wasn’t much talking involved. Every so often, John would catch Sherlock staring down at his food, his lip would quiver and he would set his fork down to wipe away the excess tears. It made John sad to see him so affected by his words, and he wished that the world showed him kindness from now on. He tried so hard, and he was a good man. They were the last to leave, of course, Angelo told them as politely as possible to leave. As usual, the men didn’t have to pay for their meal, but they tipped the man generously.

As John was helping Sherlock with his coat, Sherlock said, ‘I want to walk a bit before we head home, will that be alright?”

His voice was soft and shaky from his recent bout of tears. John was tired, but he didn’t want Sherlock to think it was his fault, he thought a lot of things were his fault. All he could do was smile warmly and nod, rubbing his back in soft circles. He had a hunch as to why Sherlock wanted to walk, he looked as tired as John did. They gave one last farewell to Angelo and set off. They walked, hand-in-hand down the street, Sherlock was more attentive than John as to where they were walking and John, being too tired, full, and content with his night, let Sherlock drag him wherever he wanted. As was the usual. They didn’t talk, it was just the sounds of cars passing by and their footsteps. Suddenly, Sherlock stopped, John bumped into him.

He opened his mouth to ask why they’ve stopped but the words died on his lips when he turned his head. There it was, 221B Baker Street. From the looks of the front door, you would have sworn that a bomb never went off in it. His eyes slowly trailed up to the windows of what was his and Sherlock’s flat, well, these days it was Sherlock’s. The windows were taped up, and from the outside, it looked like it was repainted, he wondered how far along in the reconstruction process it was. He turned to face Sherlock, whose eyes were fixed on the windows, a look of longing and melancholy washed over his face. The bags under his eyes became pronounced, his mouth looked longer due to his frown. John could only press a kiss to his cheek in the hopes to snap him out of his thoughts.

“There it is, John. Our…my home.”

“It’s looking better, don’t you think?”

Sherlock’s lips pressed together in a slight smile. “From the outside. It should be empty now of night, Mycroft probably shooed them away by now.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Yes, why?”

John knew what Sherlock wanted to do, and he saw how hesitant Sherlock became. He wanted to go inside, to see how close the flat is to being finished. There was that nasty thought in his head that Sherlock longed to go home rather than be with him but he did his best to push it away. Sherlock loves Baker Street, and so does John.

“Can we go in?”

John smiled in response.

“I don’t know Sherlock, who knows what’s going on up there…” He had a light tone to his warning. Sherlock set his jaw, and clenched John’s hand.

“No, I want to go in. Only for a moment. I just want to see…”

John was just as curious too, if not excited to see Baker Street again. Maybe, whenever the flat is fixed completely, John would go back with him.

Back to where it all began.


	30. Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have more caboodling time!

The first thing he did was fix the knocker, John couldn’t help but smirk at that. They walked right past Mrs. Hudson’s empty flat. John checked his watch, he should tell Sherlock that they had to get back home now, but he wanted to see 221B again. He missed that place the moment he left it. He didn’t have much when they first moved in, a few jumpers and shirts, two pairs of jeans, and his trusty loafers. Even when he was packing his things to live with Mary, he didn’t pack everything, just his clothes. He didn’t make his bed that morning, he left everything the way he touched it last. He thought that Sherlock would barge in and toss everything about like he always did, wouldn’t even notice that the bed wasn’t made. It wasn’t until after he left that he realized that he did that so Sherlock wouldn’t feel so alone, and it was cruel. He wasn’t a dog with separation anxiety, he was a grown man who lived along well before John hobbled into his life. But he felt guilty, and stood in the doorway, his clothes packed in the luggage Sherlock brought for him, staring at the bedroom that he had called home for years.

And now he was back. The stairway looked better, brighter and newer than when he moved in all those years ago. They stopped in the hallway for a moment. Sherlock crouched down, examining the new wallpaper as if it had secrets etched into it. John leaned against the wall and watched Sherlock, admiring the view of his rather gorgeous backside, and thinking just what the hell was Sherlock staring at!

“It’s gone.” Sherlock uttered.

“What’s gone. The wallpaper? Well, yeah I suppose it is but I think it’s quite nice.”

Sherlock stood back up, neck stretched and eyes glued to the wallpaper as he walked up and down the small hallway.

“All of it is gone. The markings from Mrs. Hudson when the CIA agent attacked her, the little scuff marks of our feet when we were too tired to function. You left a bit of sauce right where your hand is the night we first met. I hadn’t noticed myself until the day after. Your finger must’ve hit the plate when we left Angelo’s.”

There goes that perfect memory. Reflexively, John looked down at his hands. His fingers spread out. He looked back up at Sherlock and smiled.

“That’s alright, love. We can always make new memories here.”

His boyfriend looked at him, his lips drawn into a great pout.

“How can we? It’ll only be me returning here.”

John was hurt to hear Sherlock say that, but it was true. John wasn’t waiting for his bedroom to be fixed. He wasn’t waiting for the living room to be renovated, his chair replaced. Sherlock was the one that stayed, the one that continued to take cases. The life that John neglected.

“Look, we can do this.” John disappeared into Mrs. Hudson’s dark flat and then returned with a jar of spaghetti sauce and a spoon. He rested the items on the stairs and opened the jar and spooned the red liquid. He placed his ring finger in the spoon and then dabbed it on the wall.

“Ta-da! It’s not much but it’s something. I would rather not see Mrs. Hudson get assaulted again to make the scuff marks.” It was a lame joke, but it made Sherlock smile and that was all he needed to see.

“I want to go upstairs,” Sherlock took his hand gently and began to walk towards the stairs, John following quietly behind him. The flat looked much better than when they last left it. There was a new carpet, and a new bookshelf with less than half of the books replaced. Their chairs were gone, as was Sherlock’s desk, and the window was covered up with cardboard and tape, just like the outside. The door to the kitchen was closed and the light was off, it would take just a little more time, but soon it would look like the old flat again. Sherlock wandered off in the direction of their rooms, he was quiet while John surveyed the flat. He was beginning to forget what it looked like, what it smelled like, what it _felt_ like to be in 221B again.

It felt like home.

He shook his head and made his way to Sherlock’s room, prepping himself for the sight and the reaction from his boyfriend. He paused in front of the smaller stairway, and had the brief urge to go up to his room and see what became of it. The glow of Sherlock’s phone screen interrupted any coming action.

“Hey, love.”

Sherlock locked his phone and looked up at John. The sad nostalgia that filled his face made John sigh. His room looked in decent shape. There was a bed again, with a sheet and two pillows. He never had much in his room, and it always baffled John whenever he went into the tidy room. Then again, Sherlock never really slept in his bed. There was a replacement lamp, which he turned on. Sherlock himself was sitting on the bed, his coat shed and thrown over the headboard. He patted the space next to him for John to sit down. Slowly, John sank onto the bed, startled by how soft it was. Big Brother Mycroft remembering his little brother’s sensitive skin.

Sherlock’s breath was as soft as his curls that tickled John’s neck. John placed a hand on his lap and closed his eyes at the warmth exuded by his love’s own. He pressed his lips into his hair and then turned his head to rest his cheek on it.

“It’s looking better.”

“Hmph.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. You and I both know that Mycroft is pulling every string he can to make the flat like it was.”

“He can reproduce every item of furniture, literature, and clothing that I had and it will never make the flat as it was.”

John’s brows furrowed. “And why not?”

Sherlock was silent and John was ready to leave the topic alone before he heard him say, “It’s only ever a home when you’re here, John.”

John’s grinned and kissed his head again.

“If I wanted another flat I would have just told Mycroft to buy me another one. This flat is special to me because it was my first time living with somebody else, let alone somebody who liked me of their own accord and who actively looked forward to staying with me. There were others that came seeking a flatmate, but I made the mistake of opening my mouth and there they went. You _stayed_ John. You stayed, and you listened, and you cared and I never thought that I could have something, someone like you in my life!”

Sherlock’s head shot up and the tears were pooling in his eyes, one breath away from spilling over. John’s eyes went glassy too.

“This flat being destroyed means that everything we made together is destroyed! It won’t ever be the same again. I’ve loved you for so long and I’ve wanted you for so long and now that I have you, I’m terrified that it won’t matter once the flat’s fixed, because you won’t come back and I have _nothing_!”

And there it was. Sherlock thought that this relationship was temporary, to fill a hole that never needed to be created in the first place. He knew that he shouldn’t have left, that he should’ve left all his belongings here and found excuses to visit him every day. He wished that he didn’t leave him alone during the honeymoon, leaving the blog comments unread, text messages unanswered, phone calls sent straight to voicemail. If he wasn’t such an idiot, he would have seen that Sherlock tried everything he could to keep it all together for the hopes that maybe he would come back, but he ignored it, and the feelings that bubble over whenever he looks at Sherlock, and now here they were.

“I never touched anything upstairs. I always liked to think that you left the bed a mess because you were coming back. It’s pathetic, I know.” His sad smile shattered John’s heart.

John cupped Sherlock’s chin and raised it up to make eye contact. Without words, he brought Sherlock into a kiss. It was urgent, his tongue parting Sherlock’s plump lips desperately searching for his boyfriend’s. Sherlock moaned, his breath shaky from steadying tears. John’s hands cupped both sides of Sherlock’s face, his head titling to get as deep into the kiss as possible. Sherlock wrapped his own hands around John’s waist, moving closer to do the same. They pulled apart, and stared into the other’s eyes, breathing heavily. A sense of longing, lust, guilt, and remorse filled their eyes. Longing to be together again, lusting for the intimacy that they craved, guilt for waiting so long to finally have each other, and remorse for all the years they spent, torturing the other with unspoken words.

Sherlock pulled back into the kiss, this time softer and not as impatient before. His hands working their way to John’s shirt, unbuttoning with ease. John moved toward Sherlock’s belt, taking his time unlatching the hooks and pulling the belt from out of the loops. He dropped it to the floor and the metal of the buckle caused them to separate. John leaned his head so that their foreheads met, and the two closed their eyes as they breathed tender “I love yous”. In one fluid motion, Sherlock shed John of his shirt and the two watched as it softly touched the floor. John smiled and moved his hands to Sherlock’s thighs and worked him out of his pants and underwear. He paused, gazing upon his lover’s gorgeous body, the way his chest heaved, the black of his pupils, the perkiness of his pink nipples against his pale skin. John had never felt so blessed before. He chuckled and kissed Sherlock twice on his lips before removing his own clothes. Sherlock laid under him, his long legs wrapped around his waist, arms wrapped around his neck, eagerly waiting for John to make love to him. John pecked him on the lips and continued to pepper kisses down Sherlock’s long neck, stopping to suck on the especially sensitive parts of the detective’s throat. This earned him soft rumblings from within Sherlock, and low utterances of his name, John’s cock rising in response to his lover’s pleasure.

“Say it again.” John growled as he sucked on Sherlock’s nipple and played with the other.

“John…” Sherlock bucked at the sensation and John felt his own erection jabbing him in the stomach. He smirked and released his nipples, as his hands trailed slowly down to around his waist. Without warning, he hitched Sherlock up onto his lap and moaned deeply into his lover’s chest when he felt Sherlock’s nails dig into his back. He gasped, “Oh, John!” and John removed his hands, this wasn’t planned, but they needed lube. Sherlock, in his pleasure-filled haze pointed towards his pocket.

“It’s in there…. oh god…. hurry….”

John turned his body as much as he could with Sherlock resting on his thighs, already riding his right thigh with excitement. To John’s amazement, in Sherlock’s pocket there was a bottle of travel-sized lube. He shook it off and immediately flipped open the lid and squirted some onto his hand. He quickly rubbed along his penis, sending shocks of pleasure, along with precome, through him as he applied the lubricant. He threw the bottle to the floor making a short reminder to pick it up before they leave, but Sherlock was panting and begging John to enter him.

“Oh god please…”

John, feeling the heat of arousal and his climax pooling in the bottom of his stomach, positioned himself to enter Sherlock’s asshole and as he eased his way inside of Sherlock’s hole, he gasped at how tight and warm Sherlock was, god he wanted him so bad.

“Fuck Sherlock…”

He gripped Sherlock’s bottom and began to move his hips, leaving and reentering Sherlock.

“You feel so fucking good, Sherlock… Jesus.”

“Faster John! Please go faster!”

At that, both picked up speed, John slapping Sherlock’s ass with each thrust, and Sherlock gasping into John’s shoulder, leaving wounds from his fingernails and scratch marks along his back. Sherlock’s screams grew higher and their bodies became sweaty from the friction of their skin. John could feel Sherlock’s stomach tighten and he knew that Sherlock was coming.

“Come on Sherlock, you’re so beautiful, come on let me see you please…”

It was at that moment that Sherlock held John’s face and came all over his stomach, in hot, white spurts of semen. John let out a scream as he emptied himself inside of Sherlock’s body, feeling the come seep out of Sherlock and back onto his wet penis. The two men sat like that, riding the waves of their unified climax together, nose to nose, mouth to mouth, smiling, drunk with arousal. Here and there they pressed kisses onto the other’s lips, and whispered more sweet nothings.

“You were so great love, and you’re so beautiful.”

“I love you so much, John. Truly I do.”

After sitting for a few minutes joined together, Sherlock slowly rose from John’s lap and laid back on the bed. John picked his boxer briefs up and cleaned the come on his stomach, Sherlock’s eyes were half-lidded, sleep ready to take him. John smiled and kissed him one last time before resting his head on his boyfriend’s chest, feeling Sherlock’s long fingers carding through his blond hair.

Nobody spoke for a while; the only noise was their breathing and Sherlock’s heartbeat.

“…I’ve always wanted you like this.” Sherlock spoke softly.

“How?” John’s eyes were slowly closing too.

“Like this. Stark naked in my room, here, in 221B. I’ve always wanted you like this.”

John didn’t respond to that, he let the words hang in the air, and Sherlock’s gentle breathing signaling he’s asleep. Carefully, John took Sherlock’s phone and set an alarm for forty-five minutes. It wouldn’t be right to leave Mrs. Hudson with the baby all night. He put the phone back in the coat pocket and looked at Sherlock. He was lying on his back, arms and legs sprawled out, sleeping. John smiled and returned to his position.

He always wanted Sherlock like this too.

Just him, Sherlock, and Rosie now. In the comfort of 221B, their home.

Yeah, he’s always wanted him like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I don't write smut daily, this is the second time I've written it so PLEASE bear with me if it sucks! 
> 
> Also, thank you all for having the patience of a saint in waiting for these updates. I'm done with school for the summer so I have more time to write! 
> 
> Please continue to comment, kudos, and subscribe! 
> 
> Also, feel free to check out my other work, I just finished my other Sherlock fic Vitruvian! Thank you all for reading! (I'm going to start naming these chapters so yeah)


	31. Chapter 31

They took a cab the next morning, together they smiled and whispered and laughed like they were telling secrets. The driver looked back at them a few times, wondering if they were going to have sex in the backseat, he was relieved when they didn’t. Sherlock chuckled. They entered the flat and Mrs. Hudson was singing something to Rosie that made here giggle and the two men sighed, they prepped to return to an angry baby and a tired Mrs. Hudson. When John shut the door and Sherlock shed his coat, the old woman smiled and walked over to them with the baby in tow.

“She was a bit of a hassle at first, but after she ate she warmed right up to me, didn’t you, Rosie?”

Rosie gurgled and the boys smiled. Nobody could hate Mrs. Hudson, and Rosie was the final proof.

“So, how was your night?”

John looked at Sherlock, his cheeks tinged red at the recollection of their date.

“It went very well.”

“Oh well that’s terrific! You two deserve to have a night you know? What with all you’ve been through recently…”

“Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock cut off, “It’s early and you’ve no doubt had a late night, why don’t you go back to Baker Street, we’ll pay for your cab.”

Before she could say anything, John took the baby from her and Sherlock grabbed her coat from the rack and wrapped it around her. When they got downstairs, Sherlock hailed a cab.

“We’d like to thank you again for watching Rosie on such short notice.”

“Don’t think anything of it Sherlock, you two are my boys, you know that?”

Sherlock blushed and nodded. She placed a hand on his cheek.

“Don’t be a stranger, I know you both aren’t one for keeping in touch, but it was nice to you see you again. Baker Street’s a bit lonely without you two tearing the flat apart upstairs.”

“Be prepared to rescind those words, Mrs. Hudson. The flat is near completion, you will have your wish fairly soon.”

She laughed and gave his cheek a soft slap.

“Will it be just you or will we have two more flatmates?”

Sherlock’s face fell at the question. He looked down and shrugged.

“I haven’t gotten around to having that talk with John yet. I’m sure that John will decline the offer. He seems…comfortable where he is, with Rosie.”

“Are you sure? Last night he looked ecstatic to be going to Angelo’s. Maybe he’s only waiting for you to ask him properly. Do you agree?”

No answer. The cab pulled up and Sherlock opened the door for her. When she was inside he gave her some money and stepped back so the car could leave. Mrs. Hudson rolled down her window and she was frowning.

“I think it’s time for that talk, Sherlock. He loves you, you love him. What harm could it do?”

“He doesn’t want to live there anymore.”

“I don’t quite agree with you. I hope you two make a choice.”

The cab started to pull away and she rolled up her window after telling him to call her some more. Sherlock shoved his hands in his pockets and walked back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm so sorry that this has taken so long! I will try to update it, but I don't think I'll have it go on for much longer. Thank you again for your immense patience!


	32. Chapter 32

It was after Mrs. Hudson went back to Baker Street that the two tried to settle back into where she left off. Rosie was fed and dry and happy, so the men had more time to themselves than they had originally thought. Sherlock was sitting at the table, surveying the environment around him. The table was sturdy enough, he supposed. It was good for eating, and then that brief naughty thought that maybe it was good for more popped into his head and he smiled. It wasn’t his table that he had at Baker Street. His table, _their_ table wasn’t this clean and empty. It was filled with piles of papers that mostly belonged to Sherlock, and his beloved chemistry set that he never seemed to have time to clean up. This wasn’t the table he wanted to sit at, the chair was stiff, and it was aching his bum, at Baker Street he had those little cushions that John insisted on buying for the sake of his own butt too.

The more he thought about it, the kitchen didn’t feel like his kitchen. It wasn’t lined with the ugly wallpaper that he had come to love. There was food stocked in the cupboards and the fridge, something that John did for the both of them at Baker Street, but it wasn’t right here. It didn’t feel right that he was buying food for another home. The living room was nice, comfortable, but it wasn’t _homey_ for him. When he first came to stay, he didn’t mention it for fear of upsetting or embarrassing John in some way. He was the guest and it wasn’t his right to tell John that his living room sucked. But it wasn’t all bad, Sherlock thought. John had always been his home. Baker Street was his home as well, but it wasn’t complete without John. The nights where they curled up and watched all of John’s favorite movies, that had been like old times and if Sherlock tried hard enough, he could imagine them back in their flat smiling and laughing just as they were.

He got up and stretched his limbs, he sat there too long. He looked at the sink that had two bowls, a glass, one of Rosie’s spoons, and a fork in there. They ate so much takeaway at Baker Street that to see dishes in their sink was a rarity. This felt foreign, alien to him. That sofa wasn’t his, but when he sat on it with John it felt like it was. When he laid in that bed that wasn’t bought for him, it felt wrong, the blanket felt itchy and rough, not like the comforter he had in his room. _His_ room, that he decorated himself, that he slept in occasionally, that he cried in the night of John’s marriage. The room that he slept in now was temporary, he knew that, but the room wasn’t for him and John, it was for John and Mary. This flat, was for John and Mary and Rosie. There was no space for him in here, he shouldn’t have space in here. John shouldn’t be warm and loving to him here. John shouldn’t kiss him, and make love to him and whisper that he loves him in the bed that he shared with his wife. Sherlock didn’t deserve John’s love; this house was proof of it. He didn’t deserve to have nice things happen to him.

John walked into the kitchen and looked him in the eyes. _God._ His eyes sparkled when he smiled, blissful and full of love. He kissed Sherlock on his lips and caressed his cheek. Sherlock wanted to tell him that this was wrong, John was supposed to hate him, John was supposed to curse his name for what happened to Mary.

“Come join me in the bed, love. I’ve put Rosie down for a bit. Come lie with me.”

But John looked so happy to be with him, to hold him, to kiss him. How could he deny the man that he loved such a simple request? He nodded and let the man guide him to his room. It wasn’t Sherlock’s room, he couldn’t call it theirs. He settled in first, and patted the empty spot for his boyfriend to join him. Sherlock crawled in, desperate to be as close to John as possible, wanting his face to be buried so deep into his jumper that he could feel the beating of his heart underneath. He wanted to be calmed by his love’s presence, he didn’t want to think that he didn’t belong, he wanted John to hold him and to kiss him until his lips were ready to fall off. He wanted them to be back at Baker Street, it felt _right_ then. Sherlock’s bed was always meant to be used by the both of them as they made love.

Sherlock had to ask him to move back. Perhaps Mrs. Hudson was right and he missed it just as much as Sherlock did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said update times were going to be erratic? Lol you guys are troopers, for those that are still reading or are just now picking up on it. 
> 
> I am determined to finish this fic, it's not right to the people that read it that I leave it incomplete. I fall out of the mood to write this and then get filled with the energy to write a chapter so please bear with me.
> 
> Please continue to kudos/comment/subscribe or tell other johnlockers about this story, it would mean a lot!


	33. Chapter 33

The thought of asking John gradually faded, as each day he would tell himself another day, but another day never came. Sherlock’s mood since that night also plummeted, in a way that it has not in a long time, since before he and John had ever met. He hardly moved, if he was not burrowed in their bed, he was briefly in loo. He showered once…he forgets how many days ago. He felt grimy and sluggish, and most of all with the horrid sadness that was in his heart. He never told John about the scars, he doesn’t elaborate on his nightmares after John comforts him.  Lately, they’ve been reoccurring, and he’s been powerless against them. Sherlock was simply _not happy,_ and it was tiring and irritating. His restless sleep, coupled with taking care of Rosie at night, he hadn’t sleep in four days, save for the catnaps he would take when the baby was napping. And it showed. It showed whenever he would snap at John for minor things like the tea being too hot, and he hated himself every time he did it. He apologized immediately after, and John would look at him with a face that read nothing but sympathy, and he hated himself for that. He shouldn’t be acting this way, he had been okay for so long living with John, and now to him the days were just…plain boring.

John, John on the other hand, he noticed the sharp decline in Sherlock’s spirit and so he spent every day since it’s appearance trying to help. He tried to remind Sherlock to bathe when he got particularly smelly, he even bathed him sometimes, washing his hair so it wouldn’t become a tangled mess in the future. He tried to spend every minute he wasn’t at work with or around Sherlock. He would take all his meals with Sherlock in the living room. Their dinners mostly consisted of just John eating while Sherlock laid on the couch, ignoring the freshly-made pumpkin soup that John was trying out. John wasn’t mad, he wouldn’t be able to call himself a doctor if he got mad at Sherlock. Depression was a very real illness, and he figured out quite early on in their time together that Sherlock suffered from it often. John had been just as depressed before meeting him. His diet only consisted of two bites of an apple and maybe a glass of water, he laid in bed because the pain in his leg was too much for him after his discharge, he doesn’t know how much longer he would have made it without meeting Sherlock. While his boyfriend had always tried to twist the words, he knows that Sherlock had confessed to him that he felt the same. But now things are different, Sherlock is not okay, the worst it had been in a while for John. It worried him a lot, and so he nearly begged for his boss to let him take time off, his boyfriend’s mental health came first.

So, he stayed home with him, taking care of Sherlock and Rosie as he thought of ways to get the love of his life help. He waited until they were both in bed, John had a feeling that Sherlock would find a way to leave the bed again and waste the rest of the night watching crap telly, so he had to speak to him sooner than later. Sherlock had turned off his lamp, only John’s side of the room was lit. John knew he wasn’t asleep. He rolled over, he wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist and nuzzled his nose into the inside out shirt.

“Oh, don’t do that! I’ve been wearing this shirt for days.” 

John pressed a kiss to his shoulder and nuzzled again.

“It’s alright, I can do laundry tomorrow and we can bathe together and get you changed.”

Sherlock didn’t respond, so John went ahead with his thoughts.

“Love, listen, I know that as much as we want to believe that I’m enough for you…I’m not.”

Sherlock tensed.

“Hey…hey I’m not saying what you _think_ I’m saying. I mean it in the way that…you’re not well, Sherlock. You’re barely eating, sleeping, bathing, and I don’t know why your mood has become this way, and you’re under no obligation to tell me. But I feel, that whatever is bothering you, you need to say it to _somebody_ or else…or else you won’t get better.”

Sherlock still hadn’t moved, but the way he was breathing, he was listening.

“I can have dinner with you, spend every waking hour with you, but I’m not helping you in the way that I want or that’s most effective for the both of us. I’m not mad at you, I love you and I want the best for you.”

“And so what are you referring to, John?”

“I’ve scheduled a meeting with Ella, and I’m going to take you to her tomorrow. She’s better suited for this more than I am, anyway. We can go, and if you don’t like your session then we’ll find something else, but for my sake, I want you to give it an honest chance.”

“…Do you trust her?” Sherlock asked quietly.

“Yeah, I do. Do you trust me?”

Sherlock grabbed the hand that was on his side and patted it gently.

“I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment/kudos/subscribe, and thank you for reading!


End file.
